And the Thunder Rolls
by duffshel
Summary: Dead body. Bad weather. One heck of a night
1. Prologue: There’s a storm moving in…

**Summary: **Dead body. Bad weather. One _hell_ of a night.

**Timeline: **Season 6, sometime after "Still Life" (no direct episode spoilers, but plenty of references)

**Disclaimer: **This is all written in fun and trial for something new. Everything CSI is not mine and never will be. It belongs to the creative talent of the actors, the writers, the directors, and producers. I am not making any money off of this. Only meant to offer something new on something already so great. No reason to sue. Don't own anything with the song either. All rights belong to Garth Brooks and Pat Alger. Just using it for some inspiration and chapter titles.

**Title: And the Thunder Rolls**

**By: duffshel**

**Author's Note: **Here we are again. Sorry for the long wait! I really didn't mean for this to take so long to get out. Just a lot of things got in the way. As with my other two, there is no set schedule for posting. I will warn you now, this might take a little longer with updates than before. I promise nothing terribly long though! This is the third draft of this story and I am still working at chopping it up. Just couldn't wait any longer to begin posting! Hope no one minds! Well, let's begin with my ever so common (and very short) prologue and set up. Let me know what y'all think as always. See ya sometime soon!

**Prologue: There's a storm moving in…**

The wood was soft against Kayla Bicker's tongue. It was the one thing about playing the clarinet that she hated most. Nothing worst that that fresh taste of a new reed. It never failed to make her gag. But, of course, there was no way to drop the instrument. Her mother would kill her.

A soft clicking filled the practice room from above. The large, white faced clock ticked off the seconds. This was one of the few rooms left in the school without a digital clock installed. It was deemed unnecessary for the band room to have anything modern. Soon, no music would be made in these brick walls again. Money was needed elsewhere in the school. Music had to go. Footballs needed to be purchased for the next season.

Kayla was ready to get this new rehearsal going. Her boyfriend was going to pick her up after this thing and she only hoped he would want some action. Being sixteen left her to the rules of peer pressure and hormones. And her seventeen year old boyfriend, well, he was purely a male.

With a soft slap, the wood of the two inch reed met the plastic of the mouthpiece. The clip screwed tight and the reed was in place. Her thin fingers danced quickly over the middle pieces of the finger holes. With a sigh, Kayla placed the mouth piece in her mouth, bottom lip secured over her bottom teeth.

The middle range C note rang through the room with a blast of controlled air. She kept her eyes fastened on the needle of the tuner. It proved her note had been flat. Another deep breath, another exhale. The corners of her lips pulled in slightly in an attempt to rectify the tone. The needle moved closer to being straight upward on the dial.

Sound came from behind her and Kayla turned on her folding chair. Several other band members were wafting slowing into the room. No one wanted to stay after school today for this. They were all ready for the concert even if the director didn't agree with them. Two of the girls waved before they made their way over to their saxophone cases.

Kayla turned back to her music stand and the tuner. A trumpet blast sounded so she waited to test her instrument again. Snaps and thuds from other instruments from other people. She could hear the door open again to allow more people into the room. Soon the director would arrive through the door to the right of the board in the front of the room.

It wasn't odd to hear sounds of metal and wood moving all around her. Kayla tried to block out all the disruptions and focus on her playing that one note in tune. Her director always made them go around the room before they begin to make sure they were all in tune. She always had trouble getting right into tune. The older teacher always singled her out during that time.

Not this time though. She would have her clarinet all warmed up and ready to go for the practice to begin in four minutes according to that clicking clock. Another solid note escaped the black wooden horn the settled down around her knees. The tuner needle was happier with this note. It only rested slightly to the left now. Kayla adjusted the wood and plastic in her mouth for another try.

Her teeth rested softly against the rubber padding on the top of the plastic mouth piece. Her cheeks pulled inward as her lips pinched. Kayla forced her back to straighten even more. A deep breath through the mouth and she blew a solid note. The needle was pointing straight up. There was no shifting. She let the note die with a smile.

The gun shot registered completely sharp.

TBC…let the show begin…


	2. Chapter 1: Raindrops on the windshield…

**Title: And the Thunder Rolls**

**By: duffshel**

**Author's Note: **So, I take it the clarinet player hit many at home. I played the B-flat clarinet for ten years, the bass for seven, and the bass contra for four. It is the one instrument I know inside and out, well, I know a little about the trumpet as well. Also, everything about this is made-up. I have never been to Boulder City, or Nevada for that matter, so this is all done by maps and history of the areas. So, if you know the area, bear with me. So, y'all wanted the boys, here they are! Go now, have fun!

**#1: Raindrops on the windshield…**

"Expect forceful winds, heavy rain. This sudden storm system is expected to stay over the Vegas area for at least another hour. Stay inside if you can. Watch out for sudden flash floods if you are forced to leave the house for any reason. And stay tuned, we have sport scores coming up with…"

Greg Sanders tuned out the feminine voice that washed out from the radio speakers situated behind his head. His right hand unconsciously gripped at the cloth seatbelt that held his body flat against the cushion behind him. The landscape just beyond the slightly foggy glass pulled his full attention outward.

The few trees that could be seen were fighting hard against the wind that seemed completely determined to rip them out by the roots. Several small sand storms were swirling around, dancing over the highway between and over passing vehicles. The sky was doing a fine job of threatening for the heavy rain the sweet voice predicted over the radio.

Being a desert, the rains were rare, but when they did occur, they could be dangerous. Greg could still remember the 100 year flood that had struck back in 1998. Several casinos along the strip reported sever flooding from the reported 3.19 inches of rain. Two people were killed and the area quickly declared to be a disaster area in order to receive federal aid.

The newest CSI had no desire to see that again anytime soon. There would be a lot of work as it was. All the crazy people crawled out of the woodwork during a rain like worms from the mud. Plenty of crimes would be committed anyways.

He brushed an errant strand of hair from his forehead. The dampness in the air was winning the battle against the gels and sprays.

A large oil semi barreled past the Tahoe, causing Warrick Brown to tighten his grip on the leather of the wheel. The SUV moved slightly beyond the yellow line on the right side for a moment, but with a curse, Warrick got the few tons of steel centered back over the pavement with a few muffled curses. It mattered little because they were soon victims to a strong blast from the right of one of the small sand storms.

Greg pressed his feet harder into the carpet of the floor and gulped, "Hey, Warrick. Umm, we almost there?"

"Geez man, just sit back and shut up. Next time you can drive if you really need to get there so damn quickly," Warrick ground out around his clenched teeth.

"No need to get all huffy. Just asking."

Warrick thought quickly and kept his response to himself. Instead, he took a moment to take his eyes from the road and focus on the third man in the car. It seemed odd to the taller man that he had heard nothing from the Texan yet on this little outing.

Nick Stokes kept his full attention to the world outside their small metal container. Without seeming to realize it completely, his left hand rested over the cool glass of the window, only the fingertips making any contact. His brown eyes darted around from sky to ground. This was similar to storms he had witnessed when he was a kid at his parent's ranch. Some of them had gotten rather violent.

"Nick?"

The calling of his name broke through the swirling thoughts. He turned slightly against the seat belt hugging his chest to look at the concerned green eyes, "What?"

"Dude, you with us? I called your name like…four times, bro."

"Sorry, thinking."

Greg snorted in the back seat, "Thought I smelt something burning."

Nick smiled and looked back out the window, "What ya need, man?"

"Just that you talked to Jim when he called. Forget the address already?"

"You wish. Avenue G, over by Ninth Street. Shouldn't be able to miss that blue Magnum even if we tried."

Warrick smiled as he tried to mentally plan out their route. Boulder City wasn't unknown to him, but the streets were not solid in his mind. A flash of lightening off to his left focused his mind back to the quickly disappearing highway. He could see the light line of the small Las Vegas neighbor. It almost looked a group of dancing stars against the dark, cloudy sky.

All three men were quiet once again as they entered city limits. No one was outside and the streets were bare of moving vehicles. People seemed to be taking the advice of the meteorologists and weather people by staying home for the rest of the day. It seemed slightly odd to Nick that a town such as this one would be virtually deserted at four o'clock in the afternoon.

The Tahoe maneuvered the streets fairly well against the wind and soon they worked their way through streets and neighborhoods. Several police cars helped them to find the elect high school fairly easy. Warrick eased the large SUV to a stop next to Brass' Magnum sedan. The detective was no where to be seen.

Greg was the first one to touch his feet to the gray cement. He turned back and reached for his fully stocked kit. The last case had given him enough slack about not having his kit completely full before a case. Not this time. He was completely prepared. Wasn't his fault though that he didn't have a damn poncho.

One door slammed shut as another opened. Nick moved slowly from his seat, legs stretching out first before moving to hold his weight. The air was humid and seemed to almost crackle around him. Small hairs on the back on his neck stood tall like soldiers readying for battle. About six steps brought him to the back of the SUV where Warrick was waiting for him.

Both men had stowed their kits in the back. Nick didn't bother looking at his partner as he reached in and grabbed up his stuff. The tension was still present. It was clear, but neither made a move to comment. When this was over, Warrick would make sure any shit between them was solved. No more moments like these. When this was all over.

Once they were all loaded up, Warrick led the way up the sidewalk towards the entrance to the school. Boulder City had a reliable police department, but often they called in the Vegas CSI team to help out with trouble cases. This was one such case. Plenty of people in the room, but no one saw a thing.

Officer Andrew Kehls had joined Brass on this little journey and stood guard at the main entrance. He saw the three men make their way over to him and felt the grin slip onto his lips. They had all been through a lot together over the past years and Andrew considered them to be all friends. His only regret, he hadn't been the officer on the scene for those dog entrails. Instead, he had been in bed sleeping for a rare day off. No matter what was said, he would always regret that one.

"Hey guys."

"Andy! You get stuck on this mess too?" Nick smiled and took the offered hand.

"You know it. Someone has to watch your asses."

Warrick smirked, "Just not too closely now. Married and all. Don't wanna have to explain that to the wife."

"Oh please, Tina loves me. She'd never hurt me."

"Well, she might if she feels threatened over her territory after all," Greg walked past them towards the doors.

"She wouldn't have to worry. Andy would never cheat on me."

"Never Nicky, never," Andrew slapped Nick on the shoulder as the CSI's walked away from him. Never would he have thought he would have such a relationship with them. Felt like he was back in high school with his football buddies.

The hallways of the school were small and silver. It wasn't a large high school. It was a private outreach for those who tested out of the average courses set up at the Boulder City High School. Here, college courses were offered, advancement a standard. But it was still considered part of the school district and the students were able to participate in other programs offered. Nick would have never been able to go here. Hell, he felt stupid simply by the presence of the lockers.

A police officer stood inside with his back leaning against a closed door. Greg didn't recognize him and a closer look at his uniform proved him to be with Boulder department. He watched Warrick walk up to him with a flash of the badge.

"Which way to the scene?"

The man yawned, completely bored, "You want to take this hallway straight down. Last door on the left."

Greg frowned. Cops were usually more into a crime scene that this guy appeared to be. Well, under Brass' new watch, they had to be. It looked as if he didn't care if this was solved or not. He didn't have much more time to dwell on this issue since he didn't want to lose Nick or Warrick.

They both walked side by side, but anyone could see the canyon that had grown between them over the past week. Greg looked over both. He didn't know what had happened between them, but he would have never expected to see them grow apart like this. Not after what he had seen Warrick do when Nick was back above ground. Man would have scared off a hungry lion.

There was a great past between the two, not clear of fights, of course. But nothing ever wedged between them before quite with this much attitude. Greg couldn't help to be concerned. Neither Grissom nor Catherine was here to break up a fight if one were to occur. He knew he would never be able to do it. Squashed like a bug he would be.

There was another Boulder officer outside the door they were to enter. Not even a nod was given as the CSI's made their way inside. Nick took in the half circle of a room with the various folding chairs and music stands on different step levels. There was a black board stretched across the front of the room along with two wooden doors. To his right were several large shelving units with pieces of equipment through most.

Several instrument cases were open. A trumpet lay half in its case. Two saxophones rested against each other. People had left this room in a hurry. It was nothing more than a complete chaotic mess. But then again, bullets tend to do that.

Warrick moved forward, careful of his steps. He caught sight of Jim Brass towards the right side of the room, second step up. The area had been cleared to make room for the EMT. None were present any longer. Only David Phillips was present for any doctoring.

His green eyes took in the large room and he would bet good money that the acoustics in here were peach. With the shape and size, the band must have sounded awesome on a good day. A piano would fill the room with melody if given the chance. Too bad it was filled now with chatter from police radios and sullen faces.

Brass nodded in his direction when he caught sight of Warrick weaving his form through the musical mess. He was glad to see another familiar face in all of this. David was nice and all, but he just wasn't someone he could talk completely to about all of this. The field coroner would go back to his office of sterilization and tools. He would be done with all of this soon. Sterile tables waited for him.

"Hey Warrick."

"Jim. What we got?"

The older, beefier man flipped his small notebook open with a simple flick of a wrist, "D.B. is Kayla Bicker, age sixteen. She was here to attend an emergency band practice with the group. It appears that someone approached her from behind, shot once according to various statements at about 2:23 p.m. But no one saw a person with a gun. All the other students are currently across the hall. Staff and principal are next door. No one's allowed to leave until I talk with them."

"How many people total?" Nick asked as he stopped next to Warrick.

"Eight students, three teachers, two janitors, and one principal. All we need now is a pear tree…School lets out at 2:15 and this was the only after school activity for the day. Most head over to B.C. High for sports practices, if not home."

Warrick nodded and took another step forward. He could still only see the back of David. Lifting a folding chair with ease, he cleared a path to get closer. David nodded his hello.

The young girl was currently resting on her back, but Warrick was sure she was moved into that position. Her face was pale and void of any expression. A small pool of blood and vomit had pooled by her head. Blood seeped into her clothes from the back. In her right hand, a chunk of a disabled clarinet was held tightly.

"Anything Dave?"

"Primary C.O.D. is gun shot to back of the skull. Death immediate. Basic enough. Body temperature is roughly 96.2 which would fit the timeline. Paramedics moved her from a face down position to her back in order to perform C.P.R. I'll get her back to the lab for more."

Warrick nodded and looked up to find his partners. He noticed Nick hadn't move since he had and Greg was still up at the top of the room. With a small sigh, he stepped back over to Nick.

"We should split and take different areas of the room. No weapon in the area of the body."

Nick nodded, "Alright. You want to take here, I'll take the top, and Greg can go with Brass?"

"Sure. Sounds good," Warrick turned back to the detective, "Take Greg with you. Nick and I got in here."

The older man nodded, "Just got word from the sheriff. He wants his guys out of here and back at the station. Weather's getting worse. Except for the people in the two rooms, building's clear. I want to get them out of here soon."

"'Kay. I'll help get Dave on his way too."

Brass walked past Warrick and walked with Nick back to the top of the wide stairs. With a friendly push, Nick was sent on his way. "Greg, you're with me."

Greg hadn't heard any of the conversation from the other men and was surprised to hear this. He turned questioning eyes to Nick, but received nothing more than a sly smile. Those two would pay on the ride back. He would make sure of it.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

The wheels on the gurney were not at their best. David fought with it through the side door to the room. He knew Warrick was waiting for him to hurry and he wasn't about to make the other man any more angry. Though, he couldn't figure out for the life of him why he thought the other man was angry to begin with. David shook his head and shoved. Rain pattered down across his shoulders.

His hand clutched at the body bad as he got the black padded table close to the step. David looked up at Warrick expectantly, "I'm going to need some help."

"Of course, boss," Warrick nodded and slapped his hands together. He was clear that they needed everything they could get off the body. There was no chance to risk anything with these cops that seemed bored out of their gourds.

It was quick and soon the soft sound of the zipper added to the harmony the room now held. There was a beat coming from Nick above and now the guitar solo added by the victim. Both men's grunts as they hefted the body up created classic vocals.

David tied the girl down and covered the black bag with a tarp, "It's starting to rain buckets out there. Have to be careful. See ya guys back at the lab."

Warrick watched the man disappear around brick before he walked forward. Sure enough, there was a good amount of rain hitting the pavement. Winds were still up and running strong. Sounded like dying wolves on the air. He grabbed the door handle and slammed it shut. Through the barrier he could still hear Mother Nature rue the day, but he had to get started on this mess created by human hands.

Now that the body had been moved, he had a clear shot at the entire area. The carpeting was scuffed up. The girl's chair had been moved, but the imprints told Warrick exactly where she had been sitting. His brain didn't even think as he began to form the picture and take the photos that would help tell it to the world.

With each flash, the dull click of the shutter fed more negative in to hold the devastating images. The metal was warm in his hands. Lenses were heavy. The bulb seemed to blind everything.

Warrick wiped at his cheek as he lowered the camera and looked around in a larger scale. Too many people had been through this area for too much time. There would be no way they would get anything solid off shoe prints. The carpeting wasn't made to hold in this, but to bounce off sounds. It was pointless to think about that.

The horn of the wooden clarinet lay on its side by the impressions of the music stand. It hadn't been disturbed in the madness. Warrick snapped on his latex gloves and reached for it. He didn't think there would be more prints other than Kayla's, but he was going to bag it anyways.

Several pieces of sheet music were scattered around. It was a large band horn piece. Warrick found the name of the composer, John Philip Sousa. He had played these back in his band days. They were always difficult, but sounded awesome in a concert hall. Nothing like loud trumpets and fast woodwinds to get the blood pumping.

He placed his camera down by his kit. With hands on his hips, Warrick tried to guess what had been moved from what position. Slowly and with precision, he began to place chairs and stands back where they should have been.

There wasn't a lot of room to move through the chair and the stands. Judging from the location of the victim's chair, she should have heard things being shifted behind her. No one would have a clear shot to stand right behind her to pull the trigger without making a huge racket. It was impossible.

Warrick sighed, '_Dammit_!'

Shaking his head to clear it from any thoughts of discouragement, he bent down and rummaged through his bag. If someone did get through that mess, there had to be finger prints. Of course, this was a public band room, but there was a slim chance of a break.

The powder felt heavy, the brush thick. Somewhere down here there was clue. Something that would help solidify the bad guy. Warrick was going to find it.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

For not a large band, there were a lot of instruments. Nick grinned to himself and snapped his photos of the organized mess. He lined up the instruments by type and size. There were three trumpets, two saxophones, two flutes, and a tuba out of their cases. That was enough to cover the students across the hall. So far, things were looking up for his half of the room.

Nick walked over to the shelves and looked over the still encased instruments. There looked to be twenty two more members of this ensemble. Not large, but not a bad size. He could image the sound these high school kids could create.

His feet carried him around the upper level to the location directly behind where Warrick was standing with his camera in hand. It was like an obstacle course. Large, heavy percussion drums blocked the way to the nearest step from this angle. Nick crouched down to look at their bases. Nothing looked like it had been moved. There were no smears in the dust collection.

With a groan, he moved back over to the eight pieces he had lined up so nicely. Several looked to be new and in excellent condition. Only the tuba looked like it had the crap kicked out of it. But that wasn't what made Nick smile.

"Where there's a mouthpiece, there's saliva. Easy," he spoke to no one in particular. Just glad for something easy.

Nick never had time to join the band in high school, but he was always interested in it. He had gone to a lot of the concerts, heard the pep band play at the games. Seemed like fun. But grades and sports had to come first.

Carefully, Nick removed the wooden reeds from the saxophones and placed them in labeled bags. The brass instruments were all cold to the touch, but one of the two of the trumpets sloshed a little as he shook them. He reached into his kit and pulled out a jars. With a slight grimace, Nick emptied out the spit valve. He did the same with the other brass instruments. All the metal mouthpieces were bagged as well.

Looking around the room, Nick was suddenly aware of the fact him and Warrick had yet to speak to each other once Brass and Greg had left. Normally they would talk each other through the room and work in tandem with each other. Now it was like they shared a bedroom or something. Nick could almost see the line painted across the carpeting. '_You keep to your side and don't touch my stuff._'

"Hey Warrick, you find anything?"

The other CSI turned and shook his head, "Nah, nothing here. Getting all sorts of prints, but I doubt much of anything will come from it."

"Hmm, yeah, same here. Collected the mouthpieces. Should help in DNA."

Warrick nodded, but was cut off from responding from a large crashing noise out the door behind him. Slowly he turned to look. The door was still shut, but the sound of wind squeezing through finally reached his ears.

"Sounds rough out there."

The voice was too close. Warrick jumped and whipped around, "Shit man! What was that!"

Nick looked confused. His forehead crinkled into a deep frown. Brown eyes were full of concern and discomfort, "Nothing. Sorry. Didn't realize you weren't paying attention."

Warrick rubbed a heavy hand across his neck. Another crash resonated outside. With a quick glance on the Texan, Warrick walked to the door and pushed on the releasing bar.

The wind grabbed the door and threw it completely open. Rain washed down on the CSI as he moved to catch it. Lightening filled the sky with white light. Thunder shook the ground. The storm was making its presence completely known now.

Warrick finally was able to get the door shut and turned a wet face towards his partner, "Going to be hell driving back to Vegas."

Nick didn't respond. He didn't pull his eyes from the now closed door.

TBC…


	3. Chapter 2: Prayin' it's the weather…

**Title: And the Thunder Rolls**

**By: duffshel**

**Author's Note: **Well, thanks for the warm welcome back with this story. Glad to see people are intrigued by it. As for what's up with the guys…something in some part of this story at sometime in the near future will explain all. Promise! Hope that helps! Enjoy this next addition. Let me know what you think of how it played out with…well, you'll see. Tried to make it as real as words on paper would let me. See y'all sometime in the middle of next week. Bye!

**#2: Prayin' it's the weather… **

Greg couldn't help, but to hop from one foot to the other. It had been awhile since he had been around so many high school students. It was kind of weird, and not in a good way. Something about these kids was off. He shook his head harshly.

'_They just were in the same room as a murder. What do you expect Sanders_!'

Brass had wanted to start in here first since these were the primary witnesses. He didn't want them to forget anything. Something about the youth attention span being worse than a jellyfish's now. Greg really hadn't been paying attention.

There were three girls and five boys. They were all huddled together in the corner. Some on chairs, others on the floor. None were talking. In fact, there wasn't a single sound coming from them other than the occasional sniffling.

All their belongings were piled up on the floor over by the left wall. There were backpacks, coats, and what looked to be the ugliest red purse Greg had ever seen. He took a step closer to Brass and lowered his voice, "Have they been searched? Their stuff?"

"One of the B.C.'s told me they did it. Same with the adults," Brass matched his tone as he took his own time to look over the pile. There was a lot of stuff, but kids always thought they needed more than what was completely necessary. His daughter had been the same way when she was still at home.

"Well, we should get started. Have to get them home sometime," Brass stated as he moved further into the room, "Okay. I'm Detective Jim Brass with the L.V.P.D. and this is CSI Sanders with the lab. We're going to be asking you questions about what happened today."

A tall boy with dark brown hair shook his head, "But we already told stuff to that other cop."

"That may be, but I have my own questions for you. Now, I just need you guys to calm down and think about this. Anything you can remember may help. And I would appreciate it if you cooperated with Greg here. He is going to be taking finger prints and examining your hands."

Several feet shuffled along the ground. Hands wrung the other. Teeth gnawed on cuticles. But no one said anything. Still only sniffles.

"First off, I need to know who we have here. Please state your name and age."

The tall boy rolled his eyes, "Derek Richards, 16."

Brass looked expectantly towards the small, blonde girl huddled up on her chair, "Susie Kenneth…17."

"Natalie Mueller, 15," the taller blonde stated from Susie's left.

The group of the remaining four males simply rattled off their names without looking up, "Kyle Peters, 17...Sam Abraham, 16...Kevin Nash, 17...Jack Christensen, 16."

"Amber Scott, 15," the red headed girl squirmed under Brass' intense stare and his waiting pen.

All this information was written quickly. Greg watched the group, but didn't see anything out of the ordinary. They all looked like simply high schools students who didn't really understand what was happening. None would say it, but he was sure they all wanted to go home to their parents.

Without thinking too much more on it, he grabbed up his kit and set it on the nearest table. Greg nodded at Natalie. She winked and held out her hands. It was an odd reaction to have when you were about to be fingerprinted as a possible suspect in a murder.

"Good. Now, let's see if we can put a picture together. Let's start with our saxophone players."

Susie shifted, "That would be me and Amber. We hadn't been in the room all that long. Hadn't even really had any time to warm up or anything. Just happened, then we were all running from the room."

"Amber?" Brass asked as he looked right at the young girl's face.

"Yeah…I didn't know what happened. All I heard was a scream, then I was being pulled…I've never heard a gun shot before."

"Who pulled you? Anyone in this room?"

Simple shrug of the shoulders. Eyes darted towards the floor. Her shoes took over her sole attention now.

Greg took a deep breath and sighed. At this rate, there would be nothing to use. These kids didn't see a thing. None one had a face to go with the crime. Hell, no one had a t-shirt for that matter. He could tell Brass had the same feeling. Susie held her hands out and didn't pay any attention to the CSI as he did his tests. It was no time before he was turning towards Derek. No luck for gun residue.

"Alright, did _any_ of you see someone with a gun? Someone standing behind Kayla? Did any of you even see Kayla?"

There was the shuffling of feet, glances at each other. No one jumped up with any information. They all looked completely scared. And the storm looked to be getting worse through the windows. World of gray matched the thoughts of gray in the room. Thunder rumbled, but it was ignored for the more important matters. Like that brown spot on the tiles.

"Anyone that didn't belong in the room? Someone that looked…off? Doing something weird, odd?"

Greg quickly grabbed up Amber's, Kyle's, and Sam's prints. The GSR test was negative so far on all the kids. There hands were clear of gun residue. Only two more to go.

"Where were the other members of the band? Seems there were a lot of people missing for a practice that was supposed to start very soon."

Derek sat up a little, "Waiting outside. Don't always want to get in too quickly. Only get yelled at more if you walk in too soon. We hang out outside the door until the last possible minute on most days."

"You went in early today. Why?"

The boy only shrugged, didn't say another word. Brass looked over the other kids, but none of them offered anything, again. Silence seemed to be the way they would go for all of this. '_Maybe if I took them to the mall they would suddenly be able to talk again.'_

Brass rubbed at the back of his neck, face in full frown mode now. These kids were going to kill him at this rate. But none of them were showing signs of murder. Just a lot of that damn silence and hesitation. After all these years on the force, it was almost like a sixth sense. The detective checked over Greg and took note that he was finishing up with the last kid now.

"Okay, we're going to go over and talk with your teachers now. These cards," he flashed several yellow index cards, "Are to be filled out to the letter. Don't leave anything off. Once we are done talking with everyone and have all your information, you will be free to go."

Only silence was his answer. No one even glanced in his direction. But Greg got a couple of his own. Those kids must not have known what to make of the younger man. But the CSI didn't have any time to think about it any more. His arm was in a vice grip.

"Get the lead out kid. Have some more people to not have a conversation with."

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Nick sat back on his heels and rubbed his palms over his eyes. They had both searched for anything and everything that might be relevant, but nothing was jumping out. He had collected good sources of DNA, but would need to get samples from everyone that was in the building for comparison. Though, it was most likely to turn out non-exciting. Lots of kids, lots of samples.

And the GSR that Warrick found on the plastic chair was consistent with the shooter standing behind the girl. Testing back at the lab, and the murder weapon, would prove how close the killer had actually stood to the victim. It wasn't anything unexpected. One wanted to find GSR in a shooting crime. They just wanted to really know how they moved through all those chairs and stands without alerting the girl.

"Looks like we got a bust in here. What ya say to going in and checking up with Greg?" Warrick questioned as he shuffled over to his partner.

"Might as well. I want to get back to the lab as soon as possible. Going to be a lot of work to do."

Warrick held up and rubbed at his forehead, "Where would you ditch the gun in a situation like this?"

"I dunno man. Nothing found anywhere in this room. I moved everything around up here, looked behind everything that I could."

"Yeah, the office doors were locked, dark. There has to be a weapon. I mean, damn, we got a gun wound."

"Think they still have it on them?" Nick looked up, lips twisted in question. This look made his dimples stand out a little. Nothing like when he was smiling, but it was enough to force them out.

"Nah, that would be suicide. 'Specially with Brass sniffing around."

"Lots of other rooms around. Think they threw it?"

Warrick sighed, "First Greg, then we'll all check around for it."

Nick nodded, but didn't say a word. His back was straight and tight in his restraint from blowing up at his partner. This was another blow off in the making. He knew his eyes told Warrick exactly what he didn't dare at this moment. They could argue in the car, again. '_Damn that man and his great ideas_!'

Both men began to collect their supplies and replace them into their black kit bags. Nick stood and stretched his back. Something down by the victim's chair caught his eye. He squinted and shifted forward.

"You forgot your brush, man. Getting kinda sloppy."

Warrick shook his head, allowing for a small twitch in the sides of his lips, "Yeah well, go pick it for me. Help a guy out."

They laughed slightly, but Nick did as he was asked. The finger print brush rested on the floor close to the edge of the stair. Nick bent over and scooped it up. He was distracted from turning by another loud crash from outside the door.

Nick couldn't help the curiosity that swarmed up through his system. It sounded like the world was coming to an end outside that door. And like any normal person, he wanted to play witness to it.

"Hey, Nicky. Nick? What ya doing? Ya know it's storming, man."

The taller CSI watched the Texan walk slowly towards the door that led to the outside. His feet began to move his body forward without much thought. All he knew was Nick was walking towards something that was making his stomach twirl and churn. Nothing good could come from this. Nothing ever did when he got this feeling.

As he got closer to where Nick was reaching out to the door, the noises outside took on a new song. Everything had become a simple rumble. The walls almost seemed to shake with the sound. But Warrick knew there was no train around this area. So, it wasn't a train. '_It wasn't a train!_'

"Nick…" his voice drifted off as he watched Nick push on the door's release. His feet rooted to the floor for a split moment.

He could hear his friend behind him, but the continuous grumble of the beast outside had much more a pull. The metal bar was cold under the flesh of his hand. It moved forward with ease. The entire door was ripped from his hand. But the impact against the brick was completely washed out by the intense storm right in front of his eyes.

Wind ripped in and lifted his shaggy hair. The whistling filled his ear drums. Chills ran up and down his spine like marathon runners. But it was the sight of things that took Nick's breath away.

The rain was moving almost completely horizontal. It seemed to scream to the ground. Large hail balls slammed into the ground along side the free water. Some looked to be the size of baseballs. They shattered on the cement just inches from here he was standing in the open doorway. Ice shards covered his boots.

It was completely gray, with slashes of white throughout the clouds. A hand touched his shoulder and Nick took his eyes away for a second to glance back at Warrick. The other man's mouth was slightly open as he took in the sight that had captivated Nick so completely. But the sudden panic and fear that forced those green eyes to widen got Nick to twirl his head around.

Lightening ripped across the sky almost continually. The streaks of grayish white were hypnotizing. The rumble now became a complete roar. It seemed to shake the entire world now. Clouds began to spin and swirl around each other. It was the tornado that dropped from the sky that took Nick's breath away.

From what Nick could make out of it, it was pretty wide. This wasn't one of those tiny ones that were in all the twister movies. It was hard to make out every part of it since it was just several gray shades on top of the other. But it was clear where the base struck with solid ground. The world was whipped up around it.

"Holy shit!"

"You can say that again," Nick nodded, eyes wide.

The two men were frozen in place. This was a rare sight in Nevada. Tornados were more prone to the Midwest or the Southern states. Nick had heard plenty of warning and sirens around his home in Dallas. But this was the first one he had ever seen.

So intent was their attention on the one, they completely missed the second one dropping only twenty feet from where they stood. This was even larger that the other one. And it was taking a fast direction, towards the school.

Warrick felt the air being wrestled from his lungs. Several trees were ripped up and thrown like they were simple twigs. It was the Ford truck that was picked up that scared him the most.

"Nick, we gotta move!" he shouted over the noise while grabbing hard onto Nick's shoulder.

At first, the Texan didn't understand, but he glanced off to his left, "Oh my god."

The truck spun in circle. It's hood spun almost fast enough after the tail gate that it almost seemed to run together. It was lifted higher into the air as the twister kicked up more sand as it moved. Nick could taste the sand on the air now. And feel his hair almost rising completely out of his skin.

Without thinking, Nick jumped out of Warrick's grasp and scrambled for the door. It was almost glued onto the brick wall. Two arms wrapped around his waist stopped his wrestle match with the immoveable object. The truck was coming right at them.

Warrick threw his body back and grabbed hard onto Nick's arm. His knuckles were white as he pulled the shorter man back with him. They reached the second tier of stairs when the truck slammed into the open doorway.

The force of the hit was enough to crack the bricks and shove the wall into the room. But the tornado was right behind it and helped push it into the room even more. And it was enough to send Warrick and Nick to their knees. Then to their faces.

Nick peeked under his arm that he had thrown over his head and saw the wall begin to give even more. It crumbled and bricks were spit inward. A larger body slammed into his to force him to move from his prone position. His feet scrambled for purchase on the carpet, fingers digging in. Nick didn't make it far. And from the grunt by his side, neither had Warrick.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Moving across the hallway to the other room, Greg was taken back at how dark everything seemed to have gotten. Even with all the lights on, it seemed almost a yellow haze, it was so dim. But he didn't have time to think it over since he once again had to keep up with Brass. That seemed to be his main goal in everything with this case. Keep up and on top of it.

The detective was on a war path it seemed. He barely nodded at Andrew as he walked into the room, "Go watch the kids. We got in here. No one leaves. And make sure they are working on those cards."

Andrew nodded his head and walked out. Greg watched him go, but didn't say a word. He redirected his attention to the people in the room. They all looked pissed, and worried. Two of the women were sitting at the table on the far wall, full attention turned to the outside. The rapid lightening strikes lit up their faces with an eerie glow.

"Okay. I want to go home and I'm sure you all want to as well. Let's make this quick and painless. What did anyone see?"

A tall main with thinning brown hair stood and adjusted his suit, "I'm Principal Tom Stalling. I was in my office when I heard the screams. None one told me a thing and then next thing I knew, I was in here. But something happened in my school. And I want answers!"

"You and me both, buddy," Brass smirked a little, "But mine are a lot more important right now. Did anyone see someone leave the band room? Prior to the kids running out? Someone that shouldn't have been with the kids?"

One of the women looking out the window turned, "I was locking my class room door when they came running out. I'm the calculus teacher, my room is the door to the right of this one. The students were all screaming…no one, but the students."

"Anyone with a gun?"

The brown hair rustled as she shook her head, "No, just terrified children. What happened?"

"Did you know these kids?"

"Some. Had them for class."

"Any of them look off about anything?"

These adults quickly became like the kids across the hall. Faces became blank, eyes shut a little. Shoes and the floor in this room suddenly became their Disney World.

"The music director in here?" Brass looked over all the faces.

The other well dressed man raised his left hand slightly. His gray hair looked thin and limp. There were thick glasses perched on his nose, dark in color. His shoulders were hunched over, "I was preparing in in the other room. We have a concert coming up."

"So you didn't see any of the students?"

"Never do until right before rehearsal. I let them collect as they will. Then once it is time to begin, then they have to sit and listen," he dropped his head as he trailed off. This man had seen nothing about what occurred in his classroom.

Greg watched the other four people in the room, but none of them came forward with any information. They were more collected than the students, but not by much. From what the Boulder cops had said, none of these teachers had been in the room, only in the building. The janitors had begun cleaning for the day in the bathrooms in this area. It seemed unlikely that any of them would have shot the girl.

Brass turned back towards Greg, "Alright, we get their information as well."

Any further comments from the older man were cut off. The world around them dissolved into a steady rumble. Sand storms whipped harshly outside the window. Everyone turned to look outside. The window shattered and sent people to their knees.

TBC…


	4. Chapter 3: And the lightnin' strikes…

**Title: And the Thunder Rolls**

**By: duffshel**

**Author's Note: **Okay, here we go with some more. I have had some people comment on the tornados in Vegas, and believe me; it was hard to do research on this topic. But, this being fan fiction, I took some liberties to make this work. But, I'm a little nervous about this chapter (well, the entire story really). I don't know. This story just doesn't like me I guess. Hope you all enjoy it. We get to see all the guys and get to see what mess they are in now. But don't worry, not going to be over quite yet. So, I'll try to update by….the end of this weekend if everything goes well. Let me know if you like how this is coming together or if I should stop now. :) Thanks again. Bye!

**#3: And the lightnin' strikes…**

The entire world seemed to be a snow globe with glass that was way too constricting. Everything was in complete chaos. This is what must be the end of the world. Greg held his hands tightly over his head, knees tucked tight to his chest. His hands stung from the tiny cuts caused by the flying chunks of window. But it was his ears that were completely burning.

He kept his eyes tightly shut. All he remembered seeing was the windows shattering inward and the air outside them spinning faster than should have been allowed. As for the people in the room, no recollection of them at that moment. No, he didn't want to see anything else. If he lived through this, he didn't need the images for his nightmares.

Screams sounded all around him, human and natural. His body shriveled in closer, closer to bending in on itself. Something slammed into his shoulders. Greg whimpered in pain at the sudden jolt of new sensory input. This was not he was expecting from this case at all.

The roar got louder in his ear drums as the seconds ticked on. It almost seemed as if the wind was going to be able to lift him and carry him away. Something crumbled around him, on him. His skin was getting wet. This was enough to get Greg to open his eyes and peak out between his arms.

Brass was next to him, but covered with books and other debris, some of which looked to be leaves. He couldn't see any of the others from this viewpoint, but wasn't about to lift his head anymore to look. Twisting slightly, Greg looked to where he remembered the windows. The wall was beginning to come down. And quickly. Something violent and gray was throwing its full weight against the human made structure and completely winning. Rain whipped in with a vengeance.

Greg yelled out and reached for Brass. They had to get farther away from this. The detective didn't say a word and didn't fight the younger man. Greg scrambled on his knees towards the door to the hallway. He had to duck as a table flew over their heads. It shattered into pieces into the far wall. Someone was now pinned under its reduced mass.

"Greg! Move!" Brass yelled as best he could over the lion in the room.

"Trying!"

If there had been time, Greg would have rolled his eyes at the comment. _'What did the cop think he was trying to do? He couldn't do that and fight tables at the same time!'_

It was only a few feet left to the wooden door though it might have well been the entire Sahara Desert. Greg pushed himself harder to reach it. Placing his hand against the grain to push himself up slightly, Greg could feel the door shaking against its lock and hinges. Brass didn't wait before reaching his own hand up and turning the knob after losing grip only once.

Both men fell hard into the hallway. Brass was the one to pull himself together quick enough to throw the door back. The dull click of the lock was nonexistent, but he knew it happened. It was a small barrier from the hell inside, but he was willing to put anything in the way of that storm and his person. And he was partial to Greg. Didn't want to lose the former lab rat quite yet.

The roar of the storm was still clear as day within the hallway. Gusts of air still rushed through the skinny corridor. The wind was working its way in through any orifice that was open enough for it to slip in. It threatened to follow them anywhere they headed. New shattering glass sounded from areas further down the hallway.

"Come on. We got to move!"

Greg barely got his feet underneath him as Brass ripped him upward by the collar of his shirt. His hand unconsciously rubbed at the water coating his face and hair. He realized quickly that they were heading to the band room door. The room was larger and didn't have any windows. They would be safe in there.

The door was shaking slightly, but neither man put any thought to it. Their friends were in the room. Brass reached for the handle and twisted it to open. But it wasn't swinging open on easy hinges. The cop frowned, "Well, what the hell!"

"What?"

"Damn thing won't open. Only safe room in the place and something's in the way."

Brass threw his weight against the wood. It was enough to dislodge the blockage. But Brass stopped before he moved even a foot into the room. Not that he had all that much choice against the wind pounding on them. The room was coming completely in on itself. This was not a safe place at all.

Greg's jaw dropped. The wall had completely rearranged itself with half of itself completely within the room. Music stands were on their sides on the floor, some without tops. The front end of a Ford truck was embedded in the rubble. Wind and rain still worked their way in. Things were still moving in this space.

But what made his heart stop, he couldn't see Nick or Warrick. There wasn't a single sign of either man in this mini-hell. Once again, he was jerked backwards by the collar of his shirt.

"There's nothing we can do right now. Get down, keep your head covered. When this passes, then we'll find them."

"Okay…" Greg felt numb.

He watched with fear in his eyes as Brass closed the door behind them. There were shouts and screams from the other side. Greg couldn't figure out which were real and which were in his head.

"Come on Greg. We have to stay alert. Let's go check on Andrew. That room didn't have any windows. It is in the middle of the school. They should be okay."

The younger man refrained from saying anything about how Brass had said that about the band room. And they had both seen how that one looked. And who they hadn't seen.

They both managed to get across the hallway. Greg looked down the hallway. Only their end looked to be affected by the storm outside. He only hoped it passed soon before anything more could happen.

'_When will I learn to keep my mouth shut. Physical and mental_,' Greg slapped his hand over his mouth to stop the shout of panic from emerging at the new aspect tossed at the two men.

Now they both came to realize what they were dealing with. The bottom of the tornado ripped its way straight across the school only about twenty feet from them. Now Greg was really sure he was going to be picked up and taken away to Kansas.

Brass didn't allow his feet to stop as he took in this new development. He lunged at Greg and body slammed him into the door they had been heading to. There was no struggle as the door opened and once again ended up on the tile.

"Jim! Greg!"

Andrew looked up at the entrance and bolted to his feet. He rushed over and dragged both over to the corner he had huddled in with the kids. The young cop threw himself back towards the door and closed it quickly. Without thinking too much about it, he pulled a table to help block it some more. None of the young students had moved from their crying physical cave-ins.

"Shit Andy, you guys okay?"

"What the hell is going on out there!" the young cop's eyes were wide in panic and concern as he looked over the two disheveled and drenched men. It sounded like explosions happening all around them in this closed off room. Andrew hadn't wanted to leave the kids so he stayed. Hoping no one was dead.

Brass didn't bother to say much, "Storm, tornado."

The kids whimpered and pulled in on themselves even more. Andrew's jaw attempted to work, but it only seemed to have the ability to open and close dumbly. Tornados in Vegas were rare beyond rare. He could only remember that funnel cloud back in the spring of 2001. People had seen it, but it hadn't touched down. This one obviously had more work to do than that other one.

Derek was the one to voice his opinion first, 'But…we don't have…those problems. Only ever really bad wind storms."

"Tornado ain't that far off, kid," Brass sat heavily on the floor with his back to the wall.

"Jim, where's Nick and Warrick?"

Greg shifted his body at the question. It hadn't even been directed at him, for which he was eternally grateful. His eyes burned with tears that threatened to fall for his two friends. If he had to say they might be dead, under tons of stone and a truck, he would lose and sob.

"Don't know. Band room is wrecked. Have to wait it out before we go looking for them."

Voices reduced themselves to whimpers and small cries. Sniffles could be just heard over the tormenting winds screeching outside the door. Greg rested his head on his knees and cried.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

_Why are you doing this?_

_Trying to help ya, man. What is the big deal?_

_The big deal? The BIG deal! You don't get it do you man._

_What I don't get is why you're throwing such a fit over this. Stupid if ya ask me._

_So, not only insult me with this, but then you call me stupid._

_Not what I meant, bro. And this was to help you out. It bothers me that your alone all the time. _

_But, I'm not alone. I thought I had friends, good ones._

Nick groaned at the dialogue taking place inside his head. It was loud and irritating, just like it had been when it had played out in real life. At least he could hit the stop button when he needed to now. Just had no control over play.

He forced his eyes open. At first, it wasn't clear if they were really open. It was dark, and damp. Nick tried to lift his hand to rub at them. But it wouldn't move. In fact nothing would move.

"What!" his voice croaked, and immediately bounced back at him. It vibrated through his mind. But it was drowned out by the panic that took hold of his entire being.

Nick tried pulled at his arms, but could only move them a tiny bit. Something harsh and heavy had one pinned to his left side, the other stretched out above his head. He turned his head to the side, only to be stopped before it moved more than a couple of inches. It was a trap.

His breathing got thicker and heavier. It hurt his chest, but he couldn't bring himself to calm down. Nick attempted to gain control of his legs. There was enough worst luck with those. He was trapped, without the glass.

"Warrick? Help!"

It wasn't clear where he was, but whatever he was in, it was holding in his screams very well. They echoed around him. Words were lost to him. Only screams of pure noise were sounded now. His body thrashed against his bonds. Nick didn't feel the blood beginning to run from the numerous cuts on his body.

"Help me!"

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

The rumbling had stopped. Warrick sighed his relief at this. He had blacked out only once and was what seemed like forever ago. Since then, he had to sit and wait to see what happened.

His body ached. Bricks had landed hard on his entire frame. There was also something dull and round digging into his right hip. But it was the fact that he couldn't see anything that worried him the most. Well, that and the fact he had lost track of Nick in this whole mess.

Now that it seemed the storm was over, Warrick began to work on getting out of his current situation. The weight over his body wasn't significant, but it wasn't easy to work his way upward. Dust forced him to cough harshly. It burned his eyes.

But the clearer air called his name and he grunted his way up. A pull on his right leg slowed his process a bit. Something had his shoe pinned to the floor. He had to work without moving that limb. Warrick gasped once he was upright on his knees.

Coughing and rubbing at his eyes, Warrick looked around at the room he remembered sounding peach with the sound of a piano. This room would only hear the sounds of dump trucks and bulldozers from this point forward.

Everything was in complete shambles. Water ran through cracks of the collapsed wall, pooling all around the room. Turning around as best he could, Warrick could make out that damn truck. It looked like some abstract art structure. But it was the color of pale flesh he wanted to see.

Warrick scanned the entire area around him, but didn't see Nick anywhere. With a sigh of frustration, he looked down at the leg that he couldn't get to move. It was completely held by several blocks of brick and that dull thing, a music stand. His hands were scraped and bruised, but they worked well enough to remove the obstacles in his way of getting to his feet.

The ankle looked swollen. Warrick applied some pressure to the area. A hiss escaped as his eyes dropped shut. Trying again, he slowly rotated the joint. Nothing seemed to be broken, just pulled and strained. It would work.

"Okay Cowboy, where are ya?" His voice echoed around the now much smaller band room. Thinking quickly, he quickly remembered where he had last seen his friend and carefully made his way through the mess.

Ever step he reached down and called downward. The last thing he wanted to do was step on his best buddy. That was something he would never be able to apologize enough for. Not only to Nick, but to himself.

Finally, after four agonizing steps, he heard the first scream, "Nick! Nicky!"

It was just a pure scream of fear and pain. Warrick dropped to his knees as close to the sound as he dared. This was not supposed to happen. Nick was never supposed to be scared or hurt again. Not on his watch. He had failed once again. But now was not the time to pay attention to his own pain. Nick needed him.

A sharp edged rock ripped into his fingers, but the wet blood left behind did little to distract him. It was the twitching hand that brought the sob of relief out of his throat, "Oh god, Nick. Hold on. I'm coming."

The fingers wrapped tightly around his as he gave a squeeze to let Nick know he was coming. He could hear the screams more clearly, but couldn't make out what was being said. From the position of the hand, Warrick could tell he had to work away from him. Nick's head was close.

It was painful seconds until Warrick could see the panic in those chocolate brown eyes. Tears streamed downward from Nick's eyes, leaving trails through the red and brown dirt on the pale cheeks. But Warrick couldn't wait any longer. He had to get Nick free.

"I got ya man. You're okay. Just give me some time. Have to get you out. I got ya man."

But now that Nick could see something other than darkness, his first instinct was to get up and out. Warrick's voice washed over him, but it blended with the white noise his ears were filled with. There was tight pressure on his chest as he tried to throw himself upward, and free.

Warrick pressed his hand down onto the heaving chest. Nick was going to cause more damage to himself this way. The bricks were tight on the top of his torso. Some of his ribs had to be severely bruised, if not broken. But Nick wouldn't stop fighting him, his entrapment.

Shuffling around so he was closer to Nick's head, Warrick placed both of his own bloody hands around Nick's face, "Nick, look at me."

The free hand reached up and gripped Warrick's wrist hard, "Help me…"

"Trying man, but I need you to hold still. I'll get you out, I promise."

Nick took a deep, shuttering breath and nodded his head. The pain in his body was coming out more sharply now. Every tiny weight that Warrick removed from the top of his newest coffin, it shifted the rest around him. His left hip and upper leg hurt.

Warrick smiled once he got Nick's other hand free. The other CSI pulled it up to his chest and clamped both hands together. Both hands were cut up almost as must as Warrick's were. But it was what he uncovered as he went that made his breath catch in his chest. There was a fairly deep cut through Nick's jeans, right above his left hip.

"Okay. I'm going to work on getting your legs free."

'I can help," Nick strained as he lifted himself upward into a sitting position. From this new position, new pains ran through his back and his rib cage. He could now see the blood Warrick had been focused on.

Between the two men, Nick was free before much more time had passed. Warrick ran his hands up and down Nick's legs looking for any breaks. There didn't appear to be any, just a lot of swelling and pain. It was the rest of Nick that might be a problem. He sat back on his heels painfully as slapped at his eyes.

"You okay?"

Nick snorted at the question, "I cannot believe you just asked me that. Dummy."

They both broke down into chuckles as the stress of what just happened lifted. Nick was just so glad to be free that he couldn't get the grin off his face for very long. But he couldn't laugh as well as he felt he should be able to. Something had wrapped its way around his rips and was slowly getting tighter with every move he made.

"You think the storm is over?"

Warrick cleared his throat and nodded, "Has to be. Though there is still water running in through what was once the wall. Might just be raining now."

"Think Brass and Greg are okay?"

This was something Warrick hadn't thought about yet, "Shit, I dunno. I sure hope so. We could go looking for them. Feel up to it?"

"Just need a hand up."

Without too much trouble, both men were on their feet. Nick favoring his left side and ribs, Warrick his right leg. It was a sore sight they both made. The first couple of steps were painful and slow. Nick tripped with every step he took.

"I need to sit," he ground out through clenched teeth. Sweat was breaking out all around his face, veins popping out in his temple.

"Okay man. Just take it easy,"

Warrick left Nick to stand on his own for a second as he hobbled over to grab a folding chair he spotted. It would be better for Nick to sit down on that than all the back down to the ground. A moan sounded as Nick sat down. Warrick immediately ripped at the hem of his shirt to get a make-shift bandage. He pressed the piece of cloth to the blood that was still running from Nick's wound. It quickly absorbed blood, some also from his own hands.

"Well, you're an official mess once again Nicky."

"Not looking too much better, Mr. Suave."

"Yeah, yeah. Once we get this stopped, we're going to find the others."

Nick nodded and let his head fall forward. A headache was taking up home behind his eyes. His body screamed for rest. But they had to find the others.

"And we still have a case to solve."

TBC…


	5. Chapter 4: Another love grows cold…

**Title: And the Thunder Rolls**

**By: duffshel**

**Author's Note: **See, I would never end this on any of you! Just teasing, promise! Thanks for all the helpful words. Y'all have no idea how much hearing from the readers helps me through this. Much, much appreciated! And that takes us to Chapter 4/5...my transition chapter as it seems in all my multi-chaptered stories. Let's see if we can break the record the other two hold! ;p So, off with you. Let's get all our players together to continue with the game, shall we. See ya all again soon!

**#4: Another love grows cold…**

The music wafting over the steel tables was the churning of the vibrating saw as it ate away at the skull bone in its path. There were tiny, miniscule fragments of aerosols breaking up, dancing under the florescent lights. The flat blue cloth kept the dangerous dust away from healthy, pink lungs. Pale skin vibrated and jiggled from its dead state. The body remained cold and that strange blue of deadly freeze.

Doc Albert Robbins pulled back and stood straight once the top of the head peeled itself almost completely away from its normal protecting spot over the precious brain matter, skin frayed around the cut. The blade spun slowly to a complete stop, red from the blood that still remained in the figure. He moved over to his rolling table and laid it over the blue cloth. The coroner took his time to remove the blade and place it in the waiting plastic bag so it could be documented for the case with the rest of the evidence.

Now, with precision, Doc Robbins picked up his skull chisel and gently wedged it between the lose bone and the remaining face. There was a squishing and squelching noise as the bone completely was removed from the meninges and the gray brain. The older man smiled behind his face mask as he removed the cut bone and placed it in a stainless steel bowl for later examination.

Using the x-raying machine stationed over the examining table, he could see where the bullet had lodged itself in the young girl's skull. It just wasn't a very easy place to get to from any ordinary methods. Robbins planned to work downward from the top of the brain towards where it was hiding behind the nasal passages. The shot had been downward, but the bullet angles even more when it entered the brain matter. Besides, the brain would have to come out at some point.

Turning back to his supplies table, the coroner gathered up his scalpel in his left hand, the forceps in his right hand. It is quick, but messy work. The bullet fragment was small as always. No matter how many of these he removed from bodies, Robbins could never get used to the fact that something so small could end so many lives.

As the bullet clinked in its own personal dish, the room doors swung open, emitting a frowning Gil Grissom, "Almost done?"

"Just got the bullet out. Wasn't easy. Had to remove the top of the skull to be able to work at it, the coroner moved slowly, speaking clearly as he always did.

"I'll make sure it gets up to Bobby."

"Have you heard from Nick or Warrick? The weather was getting rough out there."

Grissom rubbed his hands together as he thought out his answer, "I'm sure Jim has them staying at station in Boulder City. Would be pointless to endanger the case by driving back in this."

"I would be more worried about them then the evidence," Robbins moved to his papers, turning his back to the CSI, "But that's just me."

The girl's body didn't bother to make her comments known to the other occupants of the room. She remained as still and silent as always. Her hand was still wrapped tightly around the wooden chunk of clarinet. It was deemed unimportant in the hunt for the bullet. But it wouldn't be allowed into the coffin of choice made by her parents.

"But David was correct in all his work at the main crime scene. The gun wound is the only damage found on the body, cause of death. It immediately shut the body down; the heart was flooded with blood as it was rapidly shut down. I took photos of my progress, complete records for the file."

"No other marks on her?"

"Well, there is the bruising to her forehead which must have hit first on her final fall to the floor. I still have to extract the instrument piece from her hand, sure there are nail marks there. But no one touched her. Only the bullet."

Grissom nodded and raised his eyes to the other man's, "Let me know when you're completely finished. I'll come collect things for the box. Now, I have to go find Catherine."

Doc Robbins said nothing more as he watched the CSI leave the room, the door swinging on its hinges behind him. He turned his attention to the pretty girl whose life had been ended much too shortly. This was always tragic. Always a useless crime.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

He would never admit it, but he was completely worried about his missing team mates. The implication by the coroner was insulting. After the trials they had been put through over the years, he would never put a case in front of one of his own. He closed that personal case file last summer with the bloody pieces of flesh that had blown all over his person by a deluded father.

Grissom created his own storm as he walked the hallways of the lab. He needed to get the bullet to Bobby so that there would be something to match the gun the others would find at the school. Then, once they used the integration material the Brass would gather, they would have their case and put the bad guy away.

But for some reason, this thought didn't sit well in the entomologist's stomach.

A flash of blonde hair caught his attention from his thoughts. His feet gathered more speed and he quickly closed the distance between him and Catherine. The other CSI had her face turned downward, completely engrossed in some files she was carrying.

"Catherine."

The deep voice was enough to cause the woman to stop in place and look backwards, "What is it Gil? I have to get this finished so I can get out of here. Have to get to the Tangiers with Sam."

"I'll make it quick. Have you heard from Nick or Warrick? Greg? They were heading out to Boulder City for that 419 shooting. David made it back just fine, but that was awhile ago."

"No, but from what I caught on the weather channel, the storm is crazy towards the east. I'm sure they just got held up at the police station there. Phones probably messed up with the lightening. Hell, there was even talk about a tornado."

"I'll believe it if I see it. But they still should have tried to call."

Catherine smirked as she lowered the sheets of paper and looked at her friend, "I'm sure you'll tell them that as well. After all, you sound like their dad."

It was all Grissom could do, he harrumphed at the comment. Sure, he had gotten more emotional over the past couple of months, but he would never consider himself a father figure. He had hardly even known his own. There was no experience for him in this matter. It made his fidget and wish there was something else to think about.

"…the girl?" Catherine's voice floated at him, but he had missed most of it.

"What?"

The woman sighed and placed a hand on her hip, body tilting to the side a little, "I asked if you went and saw the girl? The one David brought in."

"Oh, yeah. Just coming from there. On my way to drop the bullet off with Bobby so he can get to work on identifying it."

"Don't let me stop you then. Remember, I have my own case to work on. And you have paperwork building up on your desk. You should try to take a look at that."

Grissom couldn't say another word as the woman walked off and left him in the middle of the hallway, mouth somewhat open. He never knew what to do when Catherine blew him off like that. If he had a wife, that would have happened most likely like that.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Andrew rested his head back against the wall behind him, eyes closed. His watch had told him numerous minutes had passed. His ears told him the bad part of the storm had moved past. The sound of rain hitting the roof was still clear. Along with the occasional rumble of a thunder clap.

But the beat of his heart was the bass for this new song, this new room. Gasping breaths, choked cries, and shuffling feet as added dimension. It was the ringing in his ears that caught his attention the most. This was something new to his brain.

Ungluing his eyes, he moved his head a little towards the side to take in his fellow crime fighters. Brass had a blank look to his eyes underneath his frown. The older man was determined to show that this didn't affect him, but Andrew knew better. Not having control over this was slowly driving him insane.

And for Greg, well, the kid was doing the best he could. His eyes were red and puffy from the slight crying session he had earlier. But it was the way he held his body together with his arms that showed how bad this was affecting him. Andrew could only hope that Nick and Warrick had pulled through this or Greg was going to seriously lose it.

With a huff of air, Andrew pulled himself to his feet and ran a hand through his hair, "I suppose we should go out there and take a look."

Greg twisted his head up to look Andrew in the eyes, "Think its safe?"

"As safe as its going to be. We need to check this out and figure out what we're going to do," Brass brought himself to standing as well, "Besides, I have two CSI's to yell at."

This was enough to cause Greg to smile. He nodded and stood next to Andrew. The three of them looked over at the kids. A couple were still tightly compacted together, but all the boys had spread out a little. It even looked as if Sam was taking a nap.

"What should we do with them?"

Brass said, "Leave them here. We'll cover more ground without them. When we know what's going on, we can get them."

Neither of the younger men argued, not that they had any time to do so. The detective had already starting pushing at the table barrier in order to get to the door. Andrew moved to help and it was quick work. With a quick glance, Brass opened to door to show the hallway outside.

Greg held his breath as he walked out behind the larger men. Bricks, stone, and strangely enough, an orange lawn chair. The hallway that had been demolished, looked just that. Walls had been crumpled under the weight of the ceiling. It was closed off in a pinch seal. They would have to look over it more later.

"Greg, take the band room. Find Nick and Warrick. Andy and I'll check the teachers over there."

The CSI nodded his head weakly and turned away from the other two so they wouldn't see the blood draining from his face. He really didn't want to find his two friends dead. Death didn't bother him until he knew the person. Then it was hell.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

The door didn't want to open. Brass was getting really sick of it. Never before had he had so much trouble with doors. It took both men to force the slab of wood open so they could enter the room. But there wasn't much of a room to look into.

From what Brass remembered going on last in this space, the damage it now was showing was not what he expected. Like in the hallway, the ceiling was now touching the floor. An entire tree was resting up against the chalk board to their left. But it was the lack of human movement that made the two cops look at each other before taking anymore steps.

Andrew moved quickly over the fallen chair and doll head towards the still woman body lying under pieces of table. Carefully he moved chunks of wood and stone. The woman was dead. No more blood flowed from her wounds. Breath was no longer her friend.

He sat back on his heels and rested his elbows on his knees, hands hanging downward. Brass was standing over two male bodies. The older detective squatted down to check pulses.

"I got a live one."

Rushing over, without falling once, Andrew dropped down to look on the band director. The school principal had a large piece of glass piercing his throat. His grayish face told his tale. But the director was breathing, and still bleeding.

"I don't see anyone else," Andrew whispered to his superior.

"No, they're under that," He nodded towards the wall and ceiling, "Have to wait until others come to get to them. Can't be helped."

Sure enough, when Andrew looked closer, a human hand stuck out between two rocks. The ring finger was missing. The thumb rested back against the wrist. But there was no movement in the nerves, tendons. That person was dead as well.

It hurt to think they could be leaving other living souls trapped under that, but Brass was right. There was little the two of them could do and if someone was found, they would need more help than they could offer. Time was still there for those people if they could get help immediately.

"I wish there was still a window in here. I'd love to see outside."

Andrew nodded as he reached for the director's legs, "Then we'd know what the hell was going on out there."

"We'll have to find a way out soon. Let's get him out of here."

The two heaved the injured man from the room. Brass knew this wouldn't help the kids' fragile minds out any, but there was no where else safe to take him. They needed a semi clean room to put this man in if they had any hopes of keeping him alive.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Nick rubbed at his forehead, deeply wrinkled with a frown. The pounding dwarves behind his eyes were working with jack hammers now. Must not have had much luck with the pick axes to get within each neuron his brain contained.

The bleeding from the aching cut seemed to have slowed enough to get Warrick from hovering over him like a mother hen. His partner was trying to get the crumbs of dirt and dust from his short dreaded hair. It was kind of humorous event, despite the circumstances.

"Not gonna get it out now, bro. Have to wait and get Tina to wash it out for ya."

Warrick scowled at the Texan, "Shut up, man. She won't have to wash it for me."

"Oh no, but like you'll mind it one bit."

This statement did get a small grin on the taller man's lips. Any excuse to have his wife's hands in his hair was an excellent excuse. That woman could make his smile on any day of the week. Warrick almost wished she was here in this hell with him. Though, having his brother by his side was the next best thing.

"Gotta admit, that will be a nice thing to look forward to. Too bad you can't say the same."

Nick seemed to crumble under the weight of that sentence. The lighter mood that had been building up was now deflating. Voices, full of anger and hurt, jumbled through his brain. His own couldn't find its way out.

_Just give it a shot._

_I don't want to! There is no need for this._

_Just want to help you out, bro. What's the big deal?_

_If you can't figure it out on your own, then what's the point of telling you? I mean, come on. Why can't you just leave it alone._

_Because I can't! _

_Why?  
_

'_Cause you're my brother!_

The other CSI could feel the shift around him as he took in Nick's dying smile. He put that shame and hurt in his friend. This was his fault. But now wasn't the time to fix it.

"Come on. We should get moving. Greg might have…"

"Greg might have figured you two would be sitting in her talking away like a couple of teenage girls," a voice interrupted.

Both men looked at to see Greg leaning against the doorway, a large smile on his face. The younger man almost seemed to prance into the room, his happiness sort of contagious. Nick couldn't help, but feel his grin grow again.

"Hey Greggo. We were wondering what happened to you. Where's Jim?"

"Well, while the two of you made yourselves scarce, we hunkered down with the kids. The two cops are now looking for anyone else who made it through this. By the way, what the hell actually happened?"

Warrick walked over and clamped a hand on Greg's shoulder, "Man, I haven't the foggiest idea. Shit just hit the fan. And well, Nicky of course decided to hit the floor. Can't take him anywhere, now can we!"

"Nope. Have to get a shorter leash for him. Maybe then he'll stay out of trouble long enough that someone might actually be able to see it."

"Oh ha, ha," Nick smiled broader despite himself, "You guys should take that act on the road."

The three men laughed a little. But the collapsed, desolate room soon brought them back to reality. They looked at each other, nodding at what they knew they had to do.

"Come on guys. We should get out of here," Warrick rubbed his neck, "Come on. Get your Texas ass up and moving."

Nick groaned as Warrick helped him to his feet. The wound pulled, his head pounded, and his stomach revolted. '_Going to have an excellent night. Can't wait to see what else can possibly happen_.'

TBC…


	6. Chapter 5: On a sleepless night…

**Title: And the Thunder Rolls**

**By: duffshel**

**Author's Note: **Howdy all. Thanks for all the great responses to the last chapter. It means the world to me to hear from everyone about how they are liking things. I hope to be able to keep everyone happy until the end. This chapter moves us forward a little. No big action though, I'm afraid. I'll try to get the pace moving again next chapter. I promise, more is to come. But just let me know what ya think about this one. Promise to be back as soon as I can. Until then! Bye!

**#5: On a sleepless night…**

It was a long walk. A really long walk. Nick never would have thought that the other classroom could have been so far away. Whoever had built this school seriously needed to take a new look at his plans. And he'd have the opportunity to do so. The hallway needed some work.

His shoulder pulled where his arm was draped over Warrick. This action was a domino affect to his rib cage. At least none of those fragile bones appeared to be broken. But he wasn't going bowling anytime soon, that was for sure. His hands would most certainly protest that activity.

Greg led the way and the other two CSI's got their first look at the students who had been in the room with the dead girl. They were all still gathered together, but there wasn't one that looked like they were traumatized in the least. In fact, Warrick could see two of the guys had started a game of cards.

There was a chair lying on its side. Warrick pulled Nick closer to him and looked at Greg, "Hey, grab that chair and put it upright."

The long, thick hair shifted as Greg looked at Warrick confused. He didn't understand at first, but then taking one more look at the Texan, Greg dashed for it. After clearing out some of the mess around the area, Greg had the chair set and ready for Nick.

"Here, sit."

"Well, ya know when things are getting bad, when Greggo here can boss ya around," Nick grumbled as he was lowered into the chair. Neither man let him do any of the work. It was beyond frustrating.

"Just sit down and don't talk for a bit, man. Have to get this all figured out."

Warrick stood and placed his bloody hands on his lower back. Now that the adrenaline and shock of things was almost completely worn off, his body was beginning to protest any and all movements. His leg was twitchy and short pains shot up into his hip often. But there was no way he was saying a word to the others. There were more important things to worry about.

He looked over at the students once again. They had taken interest in the new arrivals, but were trying their hardest to avoid actually looking at the men. The girls had grouped closer, whispers running wild between them. Their eyes darted over at them quickly and with studying gazes. Warrick had never received looks like those when he had been in high school.

A sigh escaped from deep in his body. Greg had moved to stand behind Nick, his eyes starring straight at Warrick's face. As for the other CSI, Nick had his head leaned forward, brown eyes shut. It was clear the man was trying to fight off the pains that ran through his body.

"Okay, I'll go figure out where Andy and Jim are. We need to get everyone together so we know what to do next. Greg, come with me. Nick, stay here and try to relax a little."

Nick opened his eyes and glared at the taller man, "Stay here?"

"Yeah. You're injured. Just chill for a bit and let us get this worked out. Won't kill ya or anything."

"Oh, no. Of course not. Have to listen to the almighty Warrick after all," Nick's voice took on a strong sarcastic tone, accent thickening, as his eyes narrowed, "Nicky'll just sit here like a good ol' boy and do as Warrick says."

"Whatever, dude. We'll deal with this later."

Greg stood his ground and didn't say a word as the other two men faced off against each other. That scary tension from earlier was back and seemed to be taking a new tone. He started to roll his heels off the ground, ready to bolt if need be.

When Warrick nodded his head at him, he didn't bother to say a word. '_Just follow and no one will get hurt. Easier._'

But neither man made it far. Their exit was cut off by Brass and Andrew hauling an unconscious man from somewhere else in the school. It appeared to be a struggle for the two of them. Warrick jumped forward to help Brass out with the man's torso.

"Thanks," Brass huffed as they maneuvered into the room. The older detective barely noticed the wide eyes observing them. All he wanted to do was get this guy on the floor, somewhere out of his arms. He was getting heavier and heavier by the minute.

Greg immediately darted around, clearing the way for them. There was a table they could use, but it was on its side. With a deep breath and a grunt, the former lab rat managed to get it upright and ready for the others to place the injured man on it.

No sound was made from the director as his body was placed on his back. There was no movement from behind those closed eyelids. Blood still dripped from the lacerations on his face and torso. Now that he was flat on the table, it was clear his left leg was broken in more than one place.

"Shit, this guy's a complete mess. What're we going to do?" Warrick looked up at Brass once he took in the man on the table.

The older detective rubbed a shirt sleeve across his top lip, trying to collect the sweat pooling there, "Schools have first aid kits. We find one, fix him up. Get some help, find a way out."

"Simple."

The snorted response turned all heads and eyes towards Nick. He hadn't moved from his chair, but he had straightened his body up more so he could see what was going on. They were seriously screwed in this mess. It was beyond clear.

Andrew shook his head, dispelling all similar thoughts from his head and turned towards the kids, "Hey. Any of you know if the teachers keep kits in each of the rooms?"

It was Natalie that moved from the group, Susie moving with her. The two blondes moved together towards a cabinet that was stationed next to the teacher's desk. Susie leaned towards the other girl, voice in a hissing whisper. But none of the other people in the room could hear what had been said.

Warrick's eyes narrowed as he watched the two lithe bodies move forward. He couldn't figure out what they were trying to do. From what he had seen since they had walked into this room, none of those kids ever moved once. It was almost like they couldn't move at all.

Natalie reached forward with her left hand to grab the silver handle. The door swung open, but Greg couldn't see what was inside from his angle. But it wasn't long before Natalie produced a thick, white box from the depths of darkness.

"Here. I don't know what's in it, but they can use it for something, I guess."

The older men were shaken from their freeze and Andrew was the one to move forward to collect the aid. He nodded as he took it, taking in the fact that Susie seemed to be hiding completely behind Natalie. But there would be time to worry about that later.

"Thanks girls."

Andrew placed the box on the table by the director's leg, "Anyone know this guy's name?"

Long, black hair moved as Kevin lifted his head, "Mr. Kentwood."

"Hey Warrick," Brass mumbled under his breath as he ruffled through the aid kit, "Get Nicky fixed up too. Take a look at yourself. I want everyone looked at."

The tall CSI moved over next to the detective and took the gauze and tape thrust at him. He took a glance downward, but was sorely disappointed with this school's emergency procedures thus far. There was nothing more than some rolls of white gauze, some tape, scissors, and a couple Snoopy band-aids. That would help a dying man for sure.

Sighing, he turned around to face off against the glare he had felt piercing into the back of his head for a full ten seconds now. Nick did not look happy. Not at all. It wasn't Warrick's fault that he got hurt and now had to be worked on. This was not something the CSI was looking forward to having to do to his partner. Never was.

"Okay Greg. Gonna need your help, buddy. We need to get Nick upright. Then, I'll get that belt off so we can get to his wound."

"Ya know, I'm sitting right here. Don't talk to about me like I ain't here, man," Nick puffed out his chest a little, nostrils flaring in anger at being talked about as if he was handicapped and couldn't stand on his own.

Greg shifted his weight on his feet again, "Only take a couple seconds Nick. Just let us help you."

"Yeah, just let us help ya, bro."

There was no way he was going to win and Nick knew it. He took a deep breath and simply nodded his head. This was going to be embarrassing enough. Didn't need any more attention from the other occupants in the room with him. His body groaned as he was shifted back up to his feet with the help of the other two. The wound pulled and he was certain it had started to bleed again.

Leaning heavily on Greg, Nick felt his cheeks flush as Warrick tackled his belt buckle and the zipper. The jeans weren't what could be called tight, but they did require Warrick to reach around him and tug on them. It caused more blood to rush to color his face and neck. Nick was just very thankful that his partner didn't pull them far down. Only enough to get to what he needed to see.

"Damn man, that must really hurt," Warrick whistled out as he took a good look at the cut. It was higher than he had originally thought, but just about as deep. Glancing up with an apology, Warrick lowered Nick's boxer shorts a little so there was no cloth barrier.

'Greg? You see any disinfectant in that kit?"

The younger CSI looked around Nick's shoulder towards where Andrew and Brass were frantically cleaning up the music director. But he didn't see any bottles of anything helpful. "Nah, man. Nothing."

Warrick shook his head and gently pressed the skin around the cut. It was red and looked to be coming inflamed. He was worried about infection. That was something they didn't need on top of everything else. But then an idea struck him.

"Hey kids. Any of you have a water bottle?"

Blank eyes starred back at him. Warrick wanted nothing more than to get up and start screaming at them for their slow and lame reactions, but he managed to control it. Now was not the time to lose it over something so trivial. There would be time to beat on lockers later.

Just as he was about to ask again, Amber looked up and nodded. She slowly moved off her chair and made her way to what must have been her backpack. The zipper sounded through the area and she withdrew a blue bottle of water. There only appeared to be about half left, but it would work. Her feet produced no sound as she walked over to give Warrick the bottle.

"Thank you. Helps a lot," Warrick smiled as she looked up at his face. There was nothing coming from her that day. She soundless moved back to her seat. Arms wrapped around her torso as she hugged herself.

Now with the water, Warrick quickly unscrewed the top and poured a little onto part of the gauze he had in his hand, "Greg, hold him still. Have to clean this up a little before I bandage it."

Nick closed his eyes tight as he felt Greg's grip tighten around his shoulders. Fingers poked at his hot skin, but it was the wet cloth that set fire through his hips. A pain-filled moan escaped his throat despite his best attempts to be silent. He gasped back the second one as Warrick dug a little bit to pull out some gravel that had worked its way in.

"Not a doctor, but I think this will hold up 'til we get you to a hospital."

"Haven't we had that discussion about hospitals before," Nick pushed past his teeth, "I don't want to be prodded."

Greg laughed at this, "Then you are in the wrong line of work. You should have worked in a petting zoo if you didn't ever want to be prodded. Nick, you've bad luck with this job."

"Oh, geez, thanks Greg. You my friend too?"

The mood was a little lighter as Warrick cut off some of the white bandage and applied it to the area with a lot of tape. He had no idea how long they were going to be there so he wanted to make sure the stubborn Texan kept it in place. Next time he would wrap Nick up in tape if he had to.

Nick tried to get his jeans back up on his own, but it wasn't working. The new addition to his skin didn't want to budge against the pull. Warrick had to help him. The blush was never going to leave now. His body was quite glad to sit back in the chair though.

"Alright, sit. Let me see your hands."

"Oh yeah, you're one to talk. Yours are worst than mine by far."

It was true, but Warrick had been ignoring that pain along with all his others. The bleeding had stopped awhile back and he had picked a little at the rocks. All in all, they weren't as bad as he had thought they were.

"Besides, I saw your ass limping around. Your leg's bothering you as well."

Warrick looked up as the words shot at him, "Oh yeah, what about your leg, your ribs, and your head? I think you are not going to beat me in this game, Nick."

"Whatever," the Texan mumbled as he lowered to rest his chin against his chest. But he didn't refuse the other man when Warrick reached for his injured hands. Nick had mostly messed them up during his struggle to get out after Warrick had found him. Nothing too terrible though.

It burned as the gravel was washed away, but Nick simply bit his lip to keep in all sounds. He pulled away once his partner moved to wrap them as well. Bandages would just get in the way.

"Okay, ya looked at mine. Now, I get to do the same."

Greg smirked as he watched Warrick shrug and slap out his hands, palms up. It was clear that he had the worst wounds to his digits. Pulling those rocks from Nick had taken its toll. But Greg was sure Warrick would do it a hundred times over without thought if he ever had to again.

"Happy now, Nicky?"

The glare wasn't as good as Nick had been hoping for, "No. Still have other injuries, man. But, I'll harass you later about them. You're gonna be on the hospital bed right next to me just so I can jaw ya to death."

"Now that you two are done bickering, I say we check and see how our friendly cops in blue are doing," Greg finally spoke up between the other two CSI's.

The youngest of the trio didn't bother for any response as he moved around the chair towards the temporary hospital bed. Andrew was pushing downward hard onto the man's chest, trying to stop the bleeding from the large cut they had discovered once they pulled the dark shirt of the man.

"How's it going?"

Brass looked up quickly from where he was cleaning up several lacerations on the man's stomach, "Well, if we can get the bleeding to stop, he might have a chance. Anyone check out the kids? Make sure they're okay?"

"Not yet, I'll go talk with them," Nick stated as he slowly made his way towards the open chair standing alone by the group of students.

Warrick shook his head as he watched Nick wander away from his friends. It was obvious he didn't want to be bothered anymore about how he was feeling. Now they had to worry about saving the music director's life. Then, getting the hell out of this school.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

"So, how y'all doing? No one get hurt in that fiasco we just had?"

Nick suddenly felt really old. He never had when he was dealing with his nieces and nephews, but these teenagers made him feel ancient. This was a feeling he had never really experienced before. It confused him and he felt nervous to sit with these kids.

When he had been in high school, kids knew to respect their elders in most situations. They answered when talked to by someone of authority. None of these kids must have learned those simple manners or they just didn't care. It was scary to think his future would some day be in these kids' hands.

"Cat got your tongue?"

This went over all their heads, "What?"

The tallest boy spoke up. His voice was solid, almost bored. Nick shook his head, "What's your name?"

"Derek. How many times do you people need to know?"

Nick held up his hands in surrender, grin plastered on his face, "Just a question, man. Nothing more."

"Oh just ignore him. He thinks he can say and do whatever her wants," the blonde girl from before scoffed as she looked at the boy's face.

"Okay, but that wasn't my question. Did any of you get hurt? Any injuries of any kind?"

"No sir."

Nick looked at the timid, red haired girl. She still had herself wrapped up tight. He could see the dried up tear tracks on her cheeks. "And you are?"

"Amber."

"Well, Amber. My name's Nick. And I promise you, all of you, we're going to get out of this soon and just fine. Trust me."

She smiled timidly back at his grin. Nick only could hope he wasn't giving her any false hope in this matter. He would never be able to live with himself if he did.

**TBC…**


	7. Chapter 6: As the storm blows on…

**Title: And the Thunder Rolls**

**By: duffshel**

**Author's Note: **I know, I know. Bad author! Sorry for this taking so long! I was really busy over the weekend and there was no time for much. But you all don't really care about that at all, don't ya. :p And thanks for all the awesome reviews, though I'm probably not going to be able to get to them one by one for the last chapter. I promise to try to do so for this one! But as always, I loved each one. And so happy to hear from new readers! Thanks, thanks, thanks! Okay, enough from the bad author. Go, read, enjoy! Until next time! Bye!

**#6: As the storm blows on… **

Brass rubbed his shirt sleeve across his forehead. His hands were covered in Mr. Kentwood's blood. That was something the detective never enjoyed. In all his years, he felt the presence of blood on his hands more than he ever thought he would. Las Vegas was the city that knew how to bleed.

He took a deep breath and looked up at his younger colleague, "I think we've done all we could, Andy. Its up to him to make it now and us to get him out."

"Think he's gonna make it?" Warrick spoke up from the spot that he had taken up when he joined the others.

"Did all we could with what we got here. We should head out and take a look at our situation. I don't want to be here any longer than we have to."

Andrew looked up from his own hands as the other two men talked. He had to agree one hundred percent with Brass on getting out of this school. There were dead people across the hall, the two CSI's were injured, and there were scared teenagers sitting with Nick. "Should we split up?"

Brass exchanged a glance with Warrick, "That would probably be the best idea. Warrick, you and Greg go back and check out the band room. Andy and I'll go back to the other room and look around at where the hallway collapsed."

"What about the other rooms? Those other doors out there," Greg was still moving from foot to foot.

"Get to them once we find a way out of here. After the two we have been in already."

All four men exchanged looks before moving away from the injured man. They were all worried that he would die, but they knew that if they didn't leave him, he would never have a chance in hell anyways. This was the only way to save him and possibly some of the others trapped under the walls and ceiling in the other room. No one probably even knew what had happened to them yet.

Grabbing Andrew by the sleeve, Brass pulled the younger man towards the door. They shared nods, but there were no more words spoken from the two officers. Andrew was busy trying to wipe the blood off on his pants as he shuffled along.

Not moving his feet, Warrick looked over his shoulder to where Nick was talking with the kids. They had moved from their pile into a semi circle with the Texan in the middle of it. It seemed Nick was getting them to calm down and try to understand what needed to be done. He was bringing them out of that weird funk they had locked themselves into to get through this. The red headed girl had practically attached herself to his hip it seemed. His friend was going to have to stay in this room.

"Hey Nicky."

The call stopped all conversations and widened many of the young eyes. There bodies seemed to turn back in on themselves with the new presence. Any calm they had found, was disturbed. Nick turned, pushed himself up, and walked with a limp towards the other two CSI's. Something was up, he could feel it thickening the air. And he knew he wasn't probably going to like it.

"Yeah?"

"We need to check out the band room again. Plus, we need our kits. Well, if we can find the damn things."

"Good idea. There might be a way out through the rubble that we missed before. Though, it would have to be forgivable considering, eh?"

Warrick steadied himself for what he knew he had to say next, "Yeah, but Nick. I need ya to stay in here with the kids. Greg and I'll handle this, man."

It was something he should have been expecting. This was always what happened. Everyone else got to go off and do the work while Nick was sent back to the lab or left on the side lines. Now Warrick wanted him to baby-sit and wait like a little woman for the men to return with good news. This wasn't the 16th centaury anymore. He wasn't going to sit here and wait.

"I don't think so man. I'm coming with."

"No Nick. I need you to stay here."

Nick's eyes narrowed, his lips turned into a small sneer, "Why? Why do you need me to stay here? Huh? Tell me!"

Everyone else in the room shuffled as the fire between the two sparked up even higher. Greg stepped closer, just in case. Like he knew when they arrived at the school, he would never be able to break them up if they went at it, but that wouldn't stop him. There was no way he was going to let his friends kill each other.

"Guys, calm down."

"Oh shut up, Greg," Nick snapped uncharacteristically, "Why Warrick? Why should I stay here?"

"Because! You're hurt and I need you stay out of trouble. I cannot risk letting you do anything that might kill you, man," Warrick shouted suddenly.

Nick's mouth opened and closed slightly at the outburst. Rarely had Warrick shouted at him like that. This was something he didn't hear from the other man. It caught him off guard. Caught him enough to get out of his own temper.

"Wha…"

But Warrick sliced his hand downward in the air, "No. Don't argue with me on this one. Just listen for once and stay here."

"You always ask a lot of me, man," Nick said softly, turning his face downward to study his shoes.

Silence fell over the two friends. It was loud enough to roar through the rest of the room. Greg felt he needed to hold his breath in order to not break…anything. This was not his place to break any of the stuff these two men created.

"This is just like before. Asking me for something that I don't have to give. You say you're my friend, well, all I ask is that you keep acting like it. Don't do these things to me. You know I don't need it. I don't need you to protect me, Warrick."

Warrick suddenly became aware of many things, mostly the large group of people witnessing this exchange, "Alright. But if you don't watch yourself, your ass is mine. I'll kick it from here back to the lab!"

They slapped hands together, gripped the other fiercely. It was their grip of friendship, brotherhood. If words failed them, this was what the two could count on. Their hands knew better than their brains on matters such as these. They were being stupid, but the shake was always true.

"So, kids," Warrick turned to the group who were trying to look anywhere, but the three men, "We're going to go look around. I need all of you to stay in here. Don't go anywhere. Ya hear me?"

Some heads moved in some resemblance of a nod. A couple okay's reached out into hearing range. It was enough to let Greg know these kids were going to hide away in this room some more. They were scared and it was shutting them all down. He wanted to help get them out of here.

"You two done conversing now? We've work to do in case ya forgot!"

Nick smiled and turned to face Greg, "Where'd we be without you Greggo?"

"Probably getting some lecture from Grissom or something," the younger CSI's grin grew as Warrick laughed and threw his arm around the shorter man's shoulders.

"Can't have that know can we. Alright, enough chit chat. Let's get to work."

The three of the walked out the door, one after the other. Several sets of eyes watched them, different emotions being shown. But none of those young eyes were gifted words. Only fear, anger, and determination glowed through the pupils encased different corneas.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

"Shit, this is more of mess than I remember," Brass scratched at the top of his scalp as he took in the room through the now flickering lights. It seemed the electricity was finally beginning to lose its battle to stay flowing through this area. The other room they had just left had been just fine. If this was anything like the high school, there would be more than one generator in case of emergency.

"Well, should we attempt to dig anyone out of that?" Andrew nodded his head towards the stone tomb.

"No. It could be something like those car accidents were the person is kept alive by the car holding them together. We could cause something to shift and possibly kill someone still alive. Need more help for something like that."

The younger man nodded, but didn't feel any better about the decision. His dream as a kid had been to be an EMT. Nothing more than a man in an ambulance. Other kids wanted to be the cop. Not him. It was never something he wished to become. But here he was, a cop with a tough decision to leave people to be injured and possibly dead. It was harder than he thought it ever could have been.

Without saying another word or sparing another glance at the large rubble pile, Andrew made his way slowing around the room. He would let Brass look around for an exit. His eyes would search for that black case of Greg's.

Brass shifted his weight along with lose rocks as he examined parts of the downed wall. There was no way he was going to climb on top of it. Like Andrew, he knew better than to mess with the small pockets that might have been created underneath this mess. He didn't want to kill someone and not even know it.

From his vantage point, there were no gaps available between the bricks and other objects forced within the school. Water still dripped in through tiny cracks that he couldn't even see. Brass could have sworn he saw a car tire wedges in there. Reaching out a hand, he pushed at a part farthest from the middle. With a grunt, nothing moved. This room didn't hold their exit.

"Nothing here, kid."

Andrew looked up from his crouched position by the still woman by the wall. In his hands he held a black CSI bag. It was wet on the outside and damp around the zipper, but appeared to be undamaged. Something might actually be used for the case if they could make one now.

'Found Greg's bag."

"Great. Grab it and let's get out of here. I want to check those other two doors right before the wreckage in the hall. Might be another room with an opening."

As they walked towards the doorway, the lights flickered one last time before extinguishing. Andy pulled in a quick breath, but didn't let his steps falter. He could see the yellow tinged light still burning brightly out in the hallway. That was his destination now.

The older detective was pretty much on his heels as they burst into the hallway. Even as a child, Brass had never been afraid of the dark, but in that classroom behind them, he was. It shut off his vision and he could have sworn he saw ghosts floating around lost.

Taking a deep breath and placing both hands on his stomach, Brass turned to look at Andrew, "Come on. Have to take a look at this mess with the hallway."

"Sure thing."

As they got closer to where the tornado had ripped through the school, Andrew could make out a rocking chair embedded within the bricks. He sure hoped some old lady hadn't been in it at the time when it took into flight. Knowing that no one would be caught underneath this pile, the younger cop felt more adventurous about climbing around and feeling for a week spot.

Brass held the CSI bag in his left hand as he watched the other man climb around like a monkey. There was no way he was getting his bad knee up there. Besides, though he would never admit it, Andrew was stronger than him and be able to do this better anyways.

"Now, don't make me catch you kid."

Andrew laughed as he pushed against another large brick, "Never, boss. Never."

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

"So you guys were trapped in this? Damn!" Greg crouched down by the bloody stones that Nick had been encased under. His hands shook a little as he took in the amount of blood each man had shed. Being caught in his own room was bad enough, but his friends had been in much worst than him. Taking a deep breath, he calmed himself before he turned back to the others.

Nick leaned against the wall to reach down towards the floor, "Yeah man. Wasn't a picnic that was for sure."

"Like you've been on one Nicky," Warrick chided from where he was fumbling around the Ford truck slammed into the wall. He had a feeling this was the best place to work at in order to get them out of this damn place.

"Just cause you've only been on one with your Grammy doesn't mean I've never been on a real one with a girl back home."

"Girls actually talked to you?" Greg didn't want to be left out this time.

"More than you could ever dream of Greg. Your kindergarten girlfriend doesn't count, man."

Warrick laughed full from his belly, "And here I thought it was pre-school. By age six most girls knew Greg here was a lost cause."

It hurt to laugh, but Nick didn't stop. His hand covered his wound over his hip without him really being aware of it. Ever rib in his chest seemed to stretch with every expansion of his lungs. But it was what he needed right now. Being back in this room had been harder on him than he had thought it would be. He had never been forced to look at what remained of his glass coffin. Just now, his stone one.

"Hey, I've had lots of ladies. You guys just aren't cool enough for me to introduce them to you too. If anything would scare them off, it would be your ugly mugs," Greg bent over and pulled at the black strap he had finally seen.

"Who's married, man! Huh? I got me a very fine woman."

"Still say she was completely drunk when it happened," Nick pulled out a flattened saxophone, "Never would a sober woman marry you."

Warrick slapped his hand onto the steel bumper, "Drinks were not involved, Nicky. Not until the honeymoon. Then it was flowing from the tap."

"And I don't need to be hearing about that."

With a grunt, Greg pulled the kit bag free. It was ripped in one place along the bottom. Carefully opening it to look inside, the young CSI could see the broken jars and cracked reeds. Whatever evidence was being kept safe in here was heavily compromised. "Is that because you wouldn't remember what any of it was?"

The sax clanged to the ground as Nick let it fall from his hands, "Now that was below the belt. Come on Greg, don't play dirty."

No one said a word. Greg looked slowly up from the broken bag, afraid of what he would see on the other two's faces. He hadn't meant to get out of line. This was how he thought they played this game. But his eyes became slits as he saw the other two attempting to hold in their laughter.

"You guys are such jerks," he yelled, throwing his hands out wide.

"Yeah, yeah," Warrick wiped at his eyes, "Enough of this fooling around. We don't want Brass to find us like this. Find anything?"

He made his way back to where Greg was. The place he had remembered his bag being was completely buried. There was no way they were going to be able to get to it now. But it did look like Greg was holding something.

"What ya got there?"

"I found someone's bag. Don't know which of yours it is though, sorry."

Warrick took the kit in his hand and looked inside. This one wasn't his. And it looked like anything Nick had gotten from the upper part of the room was long gone. He signed and rubbed at his forearm with his right hand. They had a tough case from the get go and now they had an impossible one.

"Shit. Nick, your stuffs ruined."

The Texan walked slowly towards his friends, a frown on his face, "Find yours?"

"Nah, mine's under the damn truck probably. Not that I had a whole lot anyways. But the camera would have been nice to have."

"Maybe once we get some help we can find it. Dig it out. Might be something we can scrounge up to use."

Greg looked uneasy, "So how'll we put this case together? I mean, I had nothing from any of the kids. I'm sure my stuff is trashed, but I had gotten their fingerprints and checked for GSR. All of them tested negative."

"See anywhere where a gun could be ditched in any of those rooms," Warrick questioned.

"No. Wait, you didn't find one in here?"

This was shocking to Greg. He had thought for sure one of them would have found a gun in this room. But now knowing there wasn't one yet, he was worried.

"What are we going to do?"

With a shake of his head, Warrick looked at the younger man, "Find a way out of here now. I don't know about you guys, but I think this case is a lost one."

"No such thing as a lost case, Warrick. Just harder ones to solve," Nick studied the room around them from his spot.

"You've been hanging out with Grissom too much, bro."

But Nick didn't respond. Instead he moved slowly once again towards where the wall used to stand. Something had caught his eyes and he wanted a better look. It was a hard trek, but he finally made it. He ignored the feeling of blood filling his bandages clinging to his body. That wasn't necessary information anymore.

"Nick? Nicky? What are ya doing?"

Warrick's forehead crinkled with worry as he watched Nick move over the rubble. His friend was obviously trying to hide his pain, but he could tell by the slump of the Texan shoulders and the hunch of that proud back. Nick needed to get to a hospital soon. And he would love to join him. His own body wasn't happy with any of this.

It was Greg that actually moved after the other man. His steps were lighter than Nick's and it didn't take him much time at all to catch up. They were now standing at the far side of the mess, away from the truck. Now Greg was able to see it as well.

"I see outside!"

Sure enough, there was a hole in the downed wall. It was tiny, but it was enough to see the gray sky full of rain on the outside. The storm was still ragging on, but it looked like the tornados were something they weren't going to have to worry about anymore. That made Greg feel much better. Those were much more scary than he had ever imagined.

"Hey Greg, you think you can fit through there?"

The former lab rat shifted himself closer to the tiny exit. He reached up with his hand to judge the size by matching it against his outstretched fingers. It was much smaller than he had thought.

"There is no way I'm fitting through there. I'd get stuck!"

By now, Warrick had made his way over and was looking over their situation, "Nick? What about you?"

That caused Nick to start laughing, "Yeah man, if Greg can't make it, I'll shimmy right through there. Damn Warrick. What the hell are you thinking? My shoulders are broader than his, my hips too. No way."

"Yeah, sure. Can't have your ass stuck in there," Warrick grinned as he thought about it. None of them would get through there. Andy was bigger than Nick so he wasn't an option. As for himself, he would be lucky to get his arm through the damn thing.

Greg's eyes widened, "Hey, I bet one of those kids could get through here!"

The other two shared a glance and nodded. None of the adults would be able to get through that, but there were plenty of kids to try. And someone needed to get outside to get some help. Someone needed to know they were in there.

"Alright," Warrick stepped back, "Let's go meet up with Brass and Andy. We'll see what they think and get something done. Maybe they found something as well."

The tallest CSI led the way from the rubble back towards the door, back to the other people. Nick held back a little, sucking in a breath to stop from groaning. A glance down at his hip proved that he was bleeding again. And it looked bad. He darted his eyes upward at the other's backs. There was no way he was going to hide this.

TBC…


	8. Chapter 7: Out of Control

**Title: And the Thunder Rolls**

**By: duffshel**

**Author's Note: **Okay, totally off topic, but watching idol last night, helped a lot. One of the guy's sang the song I'm using for this and to be honest, that was the first time I've heard the thing in years. I guess he did all right. Not terribly impressed, but what ya gonna do! But back to CSI…we found a way out! YAY! And we still have that dang case. Let's put some more puzzle pieces into place, shall we. As always, thanks for all the reviews and hits on this. Love to hear from everyone as you all know. Keep up the good work! Until next time…oh say…by Monday at the latest. Bye!

**#7: Out of control…**

Andrew was still pushing at the stones when the three CSI's joined the cops out in the hallway. From what he could make of it, the tornado had ripped through the school, severing it in two. And on the outside of this storm-made wall, was nothing, but a bigger mess. There was no exit here.

He carefully made his way so his feet were once again flat on the floor. With a stretch, he heard the soft popping sound of his vertebra. As bad as he had always heard it was to pop joints, it sure felt good on certain days. Today was definitely one of those days.

"You guys have any luck?"

"Found Nick's bag and a possible way out," Greg jumped forward to be the one to break the good news. It was his turn to make people feel better, even just a little bit. The bag felt heavy in his hand as he hefted it up.

Brass' eyebrow rose, "Really? Where?"

"Back in the band room. There's a small hole in the broken wall," Warrick's deep voice echoed slightly through the hallway, "But none of us are going to be able to get through it. But we were thinking, one of the kids could do it."

The two officers exchanged a look. It was an idea, but none of them had been cleared from the crime. Brass wasn't about to rule any of them out for this, but if one could get out, then maybe there was a chance to save all this and find the girl's killer.

"We could send two of them. That way, in case something is up, one won't be able to do anything without the other," Andrew spoke up as if he had read Brass' mind.

Nick's mind ran quickly over the kids he had been sitting with. Two of the girls were small and would probably work for this. But would they be willing to do it? This was a big undertaking and it might be too much for their already traumatized minds. "Well, if we're going to do this, we should go talk with them I guess. Have to see if we can even get one, let alone two, to do this."

Brass rested his closed fists on his hips and looked at the four younger men standing around him. This should have never happened to them. It was supposed to be a simple job, help out the local law enforcement. Now they were trapped in a school with what seemed like only one way out. This wasn't supposed to happen to these people. They had enough crap through their lives as it was.

"We still have other rooms to look into as well. Nick and Andrew, you two go in and check with the kids. You two," he nodded towards Warrick and Greg, "Come with me and we'll check out these other three doors. We might get lucky."

As positive as he could be in this situation, Greg looked around them at the other doors. Only one was left on the side where there would be any windows. The other two were next to the classroom the kids were staying in. Unless they were ripped open by the tornado, there would be nothing there. But he wasn't about to argue with Brass.

Grabbing Andrew as the two groups began to form, Brass leaned in to whisper in his ear, "Watch Nick. He's bleeding again."

Trying to be as discreet as possible, Andrew looked down towards Nick's waist. The brown, dried up blood was getting a new tint of red with the new bleeding. That cut needed stitches. Too bad he didn't know how to stitch.

Warrick slapped Nick on the shoulder as he moved to stand closer to Brass so they could figure out how to check out these rooms. He took notice of how Andrew moved close to his partner as they walked away to talk with the kids. Something was up that he missed, but the cop noticed. A twinge of guilt ran through his body at that idea. He was supposed to watch over Nick. Seems he might be letting him down again.

"Well, three doors. Three of us. It was be quickest for each of us to take a room," Brass began to bark out his orders, happy to have something he knew how to deal with, "Look over everything. Don't pass over something because you don't think it matters. I'll take the lone door on that side, you two take your pick of the others. Ten minutes, be back in the hall to report."

If either CSI had anything to say, they never were given a chance. Greg watched the detective head off to do his job. He had to smile a little at the attitude that could grab a hold of the older man. Whenever they had a case and Brass was on the scene, Greg would have to say he always felt completely safe that the man would make sure he was kept from harm whenever possible.

With that fleeting thought, Greg turned to face Warrick, "So, how ya want to do this?"

"No coin toss or any of that crap. Just take the one in front of you and I'll take the other one there."

"Okay, see ya in ten."

Greg turned to face the door head on and took a deep breath. For some reason this was scaring the shit out of him. It was just a door. An empty room. '_Well, I hope an empty room_.'

The wooden door had a small, thin plague just lower than his visual range. According to that, this room was for authorized personal only. Reaching out for the knob, he was surprised to find it unlocked. Most rooms such as these had to be locked at all times, only certain people were allowed a key. But he wasn't about to ask for any bad luck, so Greg pushed the door inward.

Here was the reason the electricity still worked in this part of the school. Two large generators took up most of the space. There was a thin walkway through the pipes and wires. Greg walked almost on his tip toes around the area. None of the walls seemed to be affected by the storm. And the one of the machines was still humming strongly. It was providing light to the safe rooms it seemed.

Looking towards the cork board on the wall, Greg could see a map of the school and to which rooms each generator was hooked up to. On the other end of the building, there were two more just like these two. It seemed to be a lot of backup power for a not very large school. Greg just shook his head and moved on.

There wasn't anything in this room to hide in or hide something in. He carefully checked in every nuke and cranny that he could reach to look for anything. But with how the room was stationed and if everyone assumed like he had that the door should have been locked, it was a bad place to stash a gun. Greg checked his watch and saw his ten minutes had been eaten up rather quickly.

Deciding to give the room one more look over quick, Greg got as low as he could. Anything could happen now it seemed. He wasn't about to let anything go. Only hope was someone else would have something go good for them.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Brass threw his weight against the door, swearing the entire time. This was getting way too old for him. After one more push, the door gave and the detective almost fell onto the floor. Shuffling his feet quickly, Brass got into the room on his feet. It was completely dark, just like the classroom next door.

"Perfect. Just perfect."

Groping around his belt, he found the small flashlight he kept clipped there. The beam wasn't broad or even that bright, but it was enough to allow him to see where he was putting his feet. This seemed to be the spot when the tornado turned in towards the school. Only half of the room was truly left. He didn't have to walk far.

Sweeping the light back and forth, there was nothing, but brick and stone. Not even a fun extra encased in this. Stepping over a busted desk, Brass walked towards the new corner formed on his left. Placing his left hand on the wet surface, he leaned his weight towards it. There wasn't even a grumble from the stone.

Attempting not to trip, Brass made his way across the entire demolition sight, testing for a weakness. The tornado left nothing here for them to use. There was a dripping noise by his feet, but he wasn't about to crawl on his hands and knees looking for the source of the water. From what his flashlight told him, there was nothing for a human to use.

Brass sighed deeply and turned back to face into the room. Now he was going to look for anything that might have to do with their case. It was possible something could have been stashed in here, though someone should have seen it.

'_Just like someone should have seen that girl get shot in the back of the head in the middle of her band room._'

Everything in this smaller space was made to be there. A few chairs, a couple student desks, a table. Nothing that screamed for any attention. Brass let his light linger over the chalk board eraser on the floor, letting it all sink in.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Now that he had the time to look at the door in his way, Warrick could see the small sign in the middle of it. It was split in two, each side of the line had a picture. There was the stick figure of a man, another of a woman in a dress. It was a bathroom.

Warrick frowned at this fact. Usually in schools, as with other larger buildings, there were two bathrooms, one for each gender. But here, right in front of him, was a bathroom with both available. And to high school students at that. Lots of trust for a group of teenagers.

Shaking his head slightly, he opened the bolt with a turn of the elongated handle. The room was dark inside. Reaching in his right hand, Warrick patted the wall looking for a switch. It was maybe three inches from the edge of the door. The room was lit up immediately. It was a small room.

It turned out to be a single bathroom. There was only one toilet, one sink, and one paper towel dispenser. Still seemed odd to have in a high school. Warrick began to wonder if this building was meant to become a school when it was built. It would have been easy enough to add on other rooms to something that was already standing.

But like the room next to this one, it was untouched by the tornado and had no windows. Taking a step in, it looked to be only nine feet by nine. It wasn't a large bathroom. But it was enough to get the job done.

Warrick decided to start from one side by the door and work around to the other. No way was this going to take ten minutes. There was a trash can with a lid, the typical swinging door on the front. Warrick felt around on his person until he came across his spare gloves. There was no way he was going to ruin something new when they had possibly lost everything else.

The latex touched the rubber of the lid and allowed Warrick to lift it from the base. Crumpled up brown paper was the only thing to meet his green eyes. He reached in and shifted it around, feeling for anything hard. Nothing, but paper towel.

"Shit," he breathed into the room as he turned his head to look at the mirror and the sink. There was nothing underneath the porcelain structure, but a steel drain and the curved trap. His hands were itching for his phenophylene. There could be blood evidence there. Warrick made a mental note to come back and check it out if Nick's supplies were still good.

His hand reached up and tugged at the mirror. It was molded into the wall. Feeling around the edges, there were no gaps. Nothing was behind this thing. But right next to it was the towel dispenser. It was white and old fashioned. There was screw on the top, a turning rod on the side, and small teeth on the bottom. Warrick worked at the screw and got the top of the dispenser to fall forward. A half roll of brown towel was left. Otherwise, empty.

That let the toilet. It was shiny, clean. And the seat lid was down. Warrick lifted it slowly, his head tilted downward. Clear water filled the bowl. Squinting his eyes and pressing his lips together, Warrick let the lid clang down as he released it. His hands went straight for the tank lid this time. Porcelain scraped against other porcelain as it was lifted from its groves. The black float rubber, white plastic, and grayish black steel.

The Glock G21 45 ACP was flooded at the bottom of the tank. Warrick closed his eyes for a moment, inhaled a cleansing breath. It was drenched, but it was a gun. They were one step closer. Now, how it got in this toilet tank?

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Andrew walked into the room first, the CSI trailing behind him. Nick's steps were getting slower with each step he took. But there was no way he was going to let that on to anyone else. He would get through this and then ask for help. At least, that's what he kept telling himself.

The kit in his hand felt heavy. For a moment, Nick ignored the eyes following his every move. He wanted to check over what was left in his bag. It made weird clanking noises as he settled it down on the wooden surface.

As Greg had said, the jars were broken. Hell, his fingerprint brush was cracked almost completely in half. There was some water that had settled on the bottom. Reaching in carefully, Nick swiped his finger along the inside of the leather. The paste was his fingerprinting powders. There was no way he was going to get paid back for having to replace this mess.

'_You're already one your third kit, Nicky-boy. Ecklie will shit a brick with this latest one_.'

Figuring the kit was a waste of time, Nick moved away from it. His body screamed at him to stop moving. But it did feel like the bleeding at slowed down or stopped again. Andrew had taken a seat and had his arms crossed over his chest. The two men shared a look, neither wanting to start this conversation with the kids. Nick rolled his eyes as he realized he lost before they had even begun to form a game.

"Okay, I'm just going to put this all out on the table. We found a way out."

Natalie immediately jumped up, the brown haired Jack on her heels, "We need to get out of here! Where is it?"

Nick held his hands out in a calming gesture. He worked hard to keep his face, his eyes calm as he did this. "There's a small hole back in your band room. And I mean small."

"In the band room? We have to go back in there?" Kyle asked while looking at Nick through his eyelashes, blue eyes dark.

"Well, technically," Andrew jumped in to help a little, "Only two of you need to go back in that room. We want to send two of you out for help. The rest will have to stay here."

Just as the cop expected, protests and outcries filled the room. Derek and Kevin were on their feet now as well, arms flapping in the arm. Their voices were down to growls and mumbles as they protested this. It was clear they knew they were too big to fit through. They just didn't want to admit it.

Nick focused his attention on the other two girls, Amber and Susie. Neither had looked up from their shoes. Their hands were wrapped tightly together. These were the two they needed to send out. Only those two could make it through that space.

"It's simple. Two leave through the hole, go to the police station, get help. Then when helps arrives you all can go home. But that means we need to figure this out now. No more arguing or fighting us. We're not here to hurt you guys."

The explanation from Nick calmed Natalie and Kevin down, but Derek was still besides himself, "And who ya guys gonna send? Huh? What if we die in here? Ya want that?"

The boy was shorter than Nick, but he might have been just as broad. Nick could see the muscles tensing under his shirt. He knew the signs for someone getting ready to attach. This kid was wired on something, fear maybe.

"No one's going to die. We just can't get any help in here without sending someone out."

"Oh yeah? I thought cops had radios, cell phones. What 'bout it?"

Nick might as well been punched in his gut. His cell phone. Wrenching his eyes from the fuming teenager, Nick looked down at his body. It had been blocked from his mind the minute that truck felt bumper over bumper at that doorway. He could have hit himself in the head for not even thinking about it. There were no thoughts about how no one else had thought of it either.

"Radio doesn't work, Nick."

The cop's quiet voice cut through his self punishment, "What?"

"I tried it out in the hallway when Brass and I were looking around. There's nothing. And my phone's in my car so no good with that one. But, look at yours."

Nick fumbled with the flap of his pocket to reach for his phone. The small miracle felt solid and heavy in his hand. And it made Nick's face drop the moment he flipped it open. The screen was dark and cracked. He pushed at some buttons, but nothing happened. It was dead.

"Shit. Won't work."

He handed it over when Andrew reached for it. A deep, shaky breath escaped his frame as he turned to face the kids again. Cell phones were banned from most schools. It appeared that this was one of those. None of the kids had one. And a quick look around the room, there wasn't a land phone present either.

"Any phones around this part of the school?"

Sam shook his head as he watched Derek sit back down, "Nah. Closest one is the office. About five doors down."

That was out of the question. As far as Nick knew, that room didn't even exist anymore. He would have to check with Warrick and Greg when they got back to see if their phones still worked. There had to be one out of the five. They weren't that unlucky.

"Okay, the phone idea is on hold. We still need two people to volunteer to go get help. Your music director, and possibly others, are severely wounded and need help. The more time we waste here talking, the more time we take from them."

"Who could fit?" Amber asked shyly. She seemed nervous to speak above a whisper. It was as if she thought something terrible would happen again if she did.

Andrew rubbed a hand through his hair, "It's pretty small. None of the guys will be able to do it. But, two of you girls might be able to get through. We can take the three of you in and see who can get through."

"Why can't all of us go?" Natalie's face was pale and drawn.

"No, only two. But we have to wait until the other three men are done."

The kids shuffled their shoes and returned to their mesh. But Nick knew they couldn't keep leaving them alone for long periods of time. Someone was going to have to stay in this room with the boys as they worked on getting someone out of this building.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Greg walked into the hallway, headed straight to where Brass was already standing. The detective did not look pleased. His room must have been as big of a bust as his had been. Only one way out and none of the adults could use it.

"Find anything Greg?"

"No, it's the generator room. One's still working strong, reason we got lights out here and that side of the hall. But nothing we can use."

"How about this?" Warrick's voice cut in and forced the other two to turn and look at him. Brass actually smiled at the gun Warrick dangled in his gloved hand.

"Murder weapon?"

"Possibly. Found it in the unisex bathroom I checked out. It was sunk in the tank. Have to get it back to Bobby."

Greg starred at the handgun with wide eyes, "How would someone get that in a school?"

"This is a Glock 21. It's popular for self/home defense. Easy to use, easy to conceal. And you can get them reasonably priced on the internet. A kid could easily get one from their parent's bed side table."

"But…" Greg's blood went cold at the idea. Of course he had heard about all the school shootings and school violence around the country, but he had thought the worst of that was over. Now, here, in almost his backyard, was another incident of kids possibly killing other kids at school.

Brass clamped a bear hand on the younger man's arm, "Don't think too much about it. Worry about it more when we get out of here. Then I want to be impressed by your abilities."

The three men started walking together towards the other classroom, the only other room in this mess with other human souls. Nick and Andrew didn't look thrilled, but Warrick could tell they had talked to the kids already. All six feminine eyes watched his progress closely.

"Anyone?"

Nick shrugged, shifted his weight, "We told them we'd take all the girls in there to see which two could do it. But we have to leave someone in here."

"Andrew and Greg can stay," Brass made it simple, "We'll take the girls and return once we get this done. You CSI's make things to complicated sometimes. Think too much."

"Yeah, that would be us nerdy science type guys," Nick grinned slightly.

Warrick walked to the door ignoring his aching muscles, "So then, let's get a move on. Girls, if you would be so kind as to follow."

Soft groans and sniffle emitted into the room as the three girls forced themselves to their feet. Amber's eyes were wet though she tried to hide them from the others. She was sheltered between the other two as the made to exit the room. Nick was right behind them, limp slightly present.

"You two play it safe. And check up on the director," Brass mumbled softly to his two guys.

"I didn't chat with Nick about his wound yet."

The older detective looked at Andrew. It was clear the younger man was upset that he had let that slide. But considering the circumstances, a lecture wasn't needed. Brass would just have to do it himself. And get some help from Warrick. Well, after he checked on that boy as well. These CSI's were going to kill him before this was all said and done.

"Alright. We'll be back as soon as we can. Watch yourselves."

Greg wrapped his arms around his body as he watched Brass leave the room. The reassuring smile Andrew gave him couldn't help rid his frame of the sudden cold that wrapped around him. He had a bad feeling. A really bad feeling.

TBC…


	9. Chapter 8: A strange new perfume blows…

**It was brought to my attention that my post on 3/5 at 7:30 a.m. didn't go through for some odd reason. I can see it under my account! Anyways, this is the second post, same day, but much later (11 p.m. just is way too late fora post!). Wishing for the best!**

**Title: And the Thunder Rolls**

**By: duffshel**

**Author's Note: **Huh, some people thought that last chapter ending was a cliffhanger…huh…well, then. Have to be careful from now on then. Can't have anymore of those. Nothing, but smooth sailing from here on out now guys! No more owies, no more drama, and no more storm. Let's get them on out and back to the lab. Then we can solve the case and everyone's happy. Right? Sound good? Yeah…I agree…let's not and say we did! As always, enjoy, read, review, appreciation, thank you and what-not. Until the middle of the next week! Bye!

**#8: A strange new perfume blows…**

It was getting late. Catherine was beginning to seriously regret offering to help out the swing shift with that case at the Tangiers. It had been simple enough, but now she had to get ready to start her normal graveyard case. And with the boys out in Boulder City, there was going to be even more work for them to do.

Her shoes clapped on the tiles of the hallway as she made her way towards Grissom's office. There had been nothing more to do with swing and she had yet to find Sara walking around. Something had to be left for graveyard to do. But the door was closed.

Catherine frowned as she took in the wooden barrier. It wasn't often that this door was closed. She strained her ears for any sounds on the other side. There were none. Her hand rapped lightly and she took a step back to wait. It wasn't more than thirty seconds until the door opened.

"Catherine? Case wrapped?" Grissom reached up to remove his glasses as he took in the blonde CSI standing in his doorway.

"Yeah, nothing too difficult with a cheating husband and his hooker. Wife practically tap danced her confession. I signed off on it to swing. Now, anything we need to work on?"

Grissom moved away from his door and walked around his desk. His chair waited patiently for his body. It welcomed him fully. The glasses rested on the papers from the file the supervisor had been looking at for the part twenty minutes.

"You hear from the guys?"

"Still haven't gotten a call?" Catherine's delicate eyebrows raised high on her brow.

"No. Nothing from any of the three or from Brass even. Something's not right."

"Have you tried calling the police station?"

The comment caught Grissom off guard. He had been so worried about getting a call from one of his guys, he hadn't even thought about calling the police station itself. It made perfect sense, but it had slipped past his grasp. Grissom shook his head slightly and berated himself for a moment. He was fully aware that Catherine's eyes were on his face.

"You didn't did you." It wasn't a question. The volume in her voice dropped off at the end. She knew better. Sometimes that man just grated on her nerves. He was brilliant, but he could be really dense more times than she could count of her fingers.

"Didn't even think about it, to be honest."

Smiling slightly, Catherine didn't bother saying anything else as she reached for her phone. It flipped open tightly and the screen caused her face to light up with a soft blue glow. The speed dial went straight through to the operator for the station. The voice was pleasant and gladly placed Catherine's call through to the Boulder City Police Department.

She winked at Grissom as he watched her like one of his racing cockroaches. It was a look of well hidden confusion and discomfort. Normally she would take great pleasure in getting this look out of the normally controlled and in charge man, but not now. Now the phone was answered.

"Yes, this is Catherine Willows with the Las Vegas lab. I'm calling about a case that three of our CSI's went out to work. We haven't heard from them and would like to talk with them."

Grissom's face got tighter as Catherine's frown forced two delicate wrinkles to show lightly across her forehead. The plumpness of her cheek was pulled in as she chewed on her inner cheek. Her fingers on her left hand began tapping to an off beat that she could only hear.

"And you're sure about this?"

Now her lips puckered inward. Her weight shifted.

"No one has looked?"

There was a third wrinkle line in her forehead now. Her eyes starred straight downward.

"Alright. Please make a note to contact us as soon as you know something…Uh huh…That would be greatly appreciated."

Catherine flipped her phone closed and held it tightly in her grip. Her knuckles went white as she thought about what she had just heard in that sweet voice on the other end of the line. Secretaries shouldn't be allowed to sound so nice when giving such troubling news.

"Well?"

That one word was so emotionally unlike Grissom that she looked up sharply. She had forgotten for a second that she was in the entomologist's office. Taking a deep breath and looking her friend right in the eye, Catherine readied herself.

"They're not there. Seems there were several tornados in the area. City is wrecked. Safety crews are busy helping out as many people as they can. Hospital is parked. It's possible they're still at the school."

"None of their officers were still present?"

"No. The sheriff wanted them out and back at the station due to the bad weather," Catherine chucked sarcastically, "But our guys were fine enough to be left behind it seems."

Grissom sat back heavily in his chair, his fingers rushing to pinch the bridge of his nose. He quickly ran through all the meteorology information he knew, but was coming up sadly short. Tornados were not things he knew much about. It was something that he should never have to worry about in this city, this area.

"So no one knows where the twisters touched down?"

'Didn't ask," Catherine shook her head, "But we need to get a hold of them. Now."

Her phone once again flipped open and her fingers flew over the buttons. First one number, than another. And another. Her eyes showed her fear to Grissom as he watched her. As her hand shook on the last try, he lifted himself from his seat enough to reach across the desk and take the phone from her. There was noise on the other end.

"The customer you are currently trying to reach is out of service or is out of area. Please contact your local cellular dealer for more information. The customer you are currently trying to reach is out of service or is out of area. Please contact your local cellular dealer for more information. The customer you are currently trying to reach…"

With a quiet sound of disgust, Grissom closed the phone and rested it against his forehead, "Who?"

"Nick, but Warrick's was the same. Greg's went to his voice mail. Should I have left a message?"

Her voice sounded so uncertain to Grissom, "No, it's fine. We just need to get over there."

Grissom was on his feet before Catherine could even blink. Her body moved before her brain and before she knew it, she was following him out into the sudden too bright hallway of the lab. The safe lab. Away from the outside world. Sure, they looked over evidence from violent acts, but it was relatively safe here from that. But her boys were out there. Somewhere. And she didn't know where.

"What do you mean? We're driving to Boulder City!"

His stride was longer than hers, but he slowed enough to turn around to look back, "Only place we can find them. I'll drive."

They continued to walk in silence, but determination. Now they had some sort of plan to set into motion. Grissom felt better now that he had something to focus on. And he would have plenty of time on the drive to get his speech in line.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Warrick could hear his voice shouting about how Nick was being stupid and should just sit his ass down. He should just admit that he was injured and needed some help. And some rest. Too bad he couldn't get the words out past his lips. Hearing voices inside your head, even your own, was supposed to be a bad thing.

The three girls were walking almost on top of each other as the moved from one room to another. It was something he never understood about women. Always had to go into the bathroom in packs and had to cling onto another when something stressed them out. Warrick would pay see a couple of guys doing the same things. No way was he going to go over and hold Nick's hand through this.

Brass had taken the lead and was marching with determination in front of him. He didn't even bother to ask for any sort of direction as to where this hole was. Seemed to Warrick the detective would just find it by some sort of miracle.

It was silent and damp in the band room. Just as they had left it only a short time ago. Nothing had sprouted from the floor and was waiting to gobble them up in a moment's notice. But Brass had stopped right in front of his followers. Warrick side stepped him.

"It's over here."

With a nod of his head, Warrick walked away from the group and headed towards their artificial window to the outside world. It was dark outside. Flicking his wrist, Warrick uncovered his watch and rubbed at the face. It was officially the night now. But he could still hear the pattering of the rain. It wasn't as strong, but it was still very present.

"Dang, you guys weren't kidding when you said it was small," Brass's deep baritone was suddenly right behind his right ear.

"Yeah, Greg would never have a chance."

Both men shared a look and looked back behind them. Nick was standing as straight as he could, hand resting on his hip. The three girls were trying to all hide behind his bulk. Amber looked to be shaking slightly.

Warrick leaned closer to Brass, "Jim, you really think we should do this?"

A sigh escaped, the words heavy, "We need to get someone out of here and get someone to help us."

"Hey, before it slips my mind again," Nick suddenly called, his body becoming straighter, "Cell phones."

It was simply two words, but it caused both Warrick and Brass to jump and begin patting down their bodies. Nothing was found. Warrick frowned as he tried to figure out what could have happened to his phone. He knew he had it when they walked into the building, into this room.

"Oh shit."

"Huh?"

"Put the damn thing in my kit. It's over there," Warrick threw his head towards the rubble that laughed at him from under that damn truck.

Brass shook his head, "Must have lost my radio. Nothing."

"Worth a shot. I hadn't even thought of it until Andy and I were alone with the kids. Have to use the hole."

Nick shuffled a little as he looked around him. He wanted out. Really badly. It was larger and there were people with him, but it was still closed off and suffocating. With a small way out. They had to get moving and get someone outside.

He slowly turned towards the frightened group behind him. This was one of those few moments he actually felt really tall. Warrick had him beat; Grissom and Greg were pretty damn close if not worst with shoes. Hell, even the female CSI's were tall. But now with these teenagers, he was the one looking down on the top of their heads.

"Okay, we need to get down there. Take your time, watch your footing. Real easy to twist an ankle or something."

Natalie sniffled and looked up, "Who's going out?"

"Have to get down there and take a look, won't we."

The Texan turned back towards the mess he had been a part of and began to force his feet to move forward. His feet had minds of their own. It was enough to make sure he didn't fall flat on his face. The rubber band that had wrapped around his chest was getting tighter.

Warrick reached out a hand to steady Nick as he stumbled. The extra weight of his friend pulled his body forward, adding stress to his leg. It was enough to remind the taller CSI that his muscles were going to need a long vacation after this.

"Okay, bro?"

"Yeah, yeah," Nick brushed his hands off, coughing slightly.

Out of the girls, Susie was the first to reach the three men. Her eyes were large in the dim lighting as she looked over the hole. Slowly, her left hand reached forward as if she was going to touch something new and special. But her arm stopped short.

Amber took up space at her left, Natalie to the right. Different emotions were present, but fear was strong on both feminine faces. And understanding came clear onto Natalie's.

"So, who wants to try first?" Brass asked quietly, trying to not scare them anymore.

It was Amber that stepped forward first, "I'll try."

Nick suddenly got a chill up and down his spine. It caused his shoulders to shutter. His face scrunched up in confusion at the sudden bodily reaction. Sure, this was nothing new. As his mother had always said, someone was probably talking about him in either anger, jealously, or deep concern. But it was an odd time. He shrugged it off.

"Once you get through, we'll pass you my light," Brass explained, looking Amber right in the eye, "And wait until someone else joins you. Then make your way to the police station. Let them know what has happened and that we need immediate help here."

"Y-y-yes sir."

Her voice got caught up on her gasp. Though Nick could hardly blame her considering. She was doing well, brave face on now as she turned towards the tiny exit. It was a slight upward climb, then forward. Brass and Warrick helped to steady her as she arranged her arms into the space. Nick found himself turning away with a grimace.

It was tiny and rough. Amber grunted as she pushed her body upward, ramming her shoulders forward. A rock pulled at her cloths, but she squirmed away from it. Large hands helped hold her legs, her feet. They gave her something to push against as her hands scrambled for holds. A slight cry of energy and Amber was suddenly tumbling forward towards the ground.

"She's through," Warrick breathed in relief as he wiped at his forehead.

Turning his eyes back towards the proceedings, Nick watched as Natalie gently pushed Susie forward, a smile on her face. The other girl didn't bother saying anything, just got herself ready as she waited for Brass to pull back from where he was handing over the flashlight.

"Ready?"

It seemed that Warrick was looking straight at Nick when the question was asked. Nick could sense that it was partly for him, but for the life of him couldn't figure out why. But those green eyes stayed on his face for a moment longer as Susie moved into place.

She was a little larger than Amber, her way not as easy. Brass grunted as her foot slipped and knocked him in the chest. He slapped a palm on the flat of her foot and let her push off it. She had to twist and pull a little more. But she got out as well.

Both faces remained at the other side of the hole for a minute. The flashlight was one, their faces eerily lit up from underneath. Their hair was quickly getting plastered against their scalps as the rain fell from the sky to wash them.

Brass grinned a little, "Good luck, kids."

Then they were gone. Warrick took a deep breath and moved his hands to his lower back. His pelvic muscle shifted forward, a twinge of pain running from his toes to his shoulders. But there was a weight gone that he hadn't realized was even there. Help would be coming soon.

"Well, no point to stay in here. Should head back and check on Greg."

Nick nodded. He wanted to sit back down. His eyes were getting heavy and his head was really starting to hurt. It was too much at that moment to remain upright on his feet. And it seemed he wasn't fooling anyone by the two critical looks he was now getting. Nick turned his attention to Natalie to escape them.

She was hugging herself tightly as she starred at the place her two classmates had just left her through. Her body was tight as Nick rested a hand on her shoulder to help divert her attention. He could have sworn she truly had jumped a foot into the air in surprise. But she didn't make a single sound. Only turned and headed towards the band room door.

"Come on Nick. Have to take a look at that cut of yours," Brass mumbled as he moved to follow after the girl.

"Yeah man. Ya need to get off your feet for a bit. Let's go."

Now Nick had Warrick's hand on his shoulder to get him into motion. But he didn't jump. No, he didn't have the energy to do anything than let his form be moved around. And to concentrate on where he was walking. One serious cut was enough for one night.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Greg tapped his fingers on the table that rested under the dying body of the band director. He was used to dead people for the most part, but the dying people issue was still something he didn't like. There was no way to know what was going on in the band room, but he sure hoped it was something good. Greg was worried he would lose it if Warrick and Nick walked back in with all three girls.

His attention was drawn to Andrew as the cop moved the injured man's arm a little. A small groan escaped the man, but his eyelids didn't even flutter even in his pain. Greg didn't want to know what was wrong with him. It would only make his worry more and feel even worse.

"You think someone got out?"

The quiet question forced Andrew to move his eyes up slowly to look at Greg's drawn face. He searched his brain for any reassuring and hopeful lies, but was coming up short. Nothing he could say would work. He didn't believe in any of it enough to pull it off.

"No idea, man. Just have to wait and see."

"How?"

Andrew raised an eyebrow at the quick, new question, "What do you mean?"

"How can you say that and look so positive about all of this?"

"You really think I look positive? Cause, man Greg, I'm shaking in my shoes right now. I've been through a lot of shit in my time, but this is defiantly new enough to cause a little fear. Just have to shove it down and not let it rein."

The CSI downcast his eyes as he thought about it, "And the kids, huh."

"Yeah, that too. Always have to be strong for others. They're looking at us for what they should do. Have to be good role models and such."

Greg could hear the slight grin at the end of the response. He didn't know if the boys could hear what him and Andrew were talking about since they were having their own little discussion. But he wasn't about to risk raising his voice much.

"If we're role models man, something is terribly wrong in the world."

"What?" Andrew sat down in another chair across the table from Greg, "Ya think we'd be that bad? Hell, I think we could do some good."

A snort and a grin erupted from Greg, "Yeah, maybe with a puppy, dude. But not with a person."

"Hmm, well…I had a puppy once. Damn thing ate my favorite pair of shoes. He lives with my sister now. Now, he's the perfect dog."

"Just like you to mess up a dog, Andy."

Both men chuckled softly, "You have any pets Greg?"

But the question was put on hold by Sam walking over to the table, his face set in distress. Andrew was worried at once that he had been injured somehow and needed some help. A quick look over him proved to show he was free of blood. Maybe he was just nervous.

"I gotta use the restroom."

Greg looked confused for a second before his thoughts cleared, "Oh, yeah. Bathroom is good, man. Just be careful and don't go anywhere else."

Sam nodded and moved quickly towards the door. He brushed through just as Natalie was making her way in. More voices in the hallway proved that the guys were on their way as well. Greg exhaled in pure exhalation as he didn't see anymore teenage girls burst in.

"Think we should have let him go alone?"

It was a logical question. Greg just didn't know how to answer it.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

The night air was chilly. It caused goose bumps to form with great definition over the thin arms and necks. Their feet moved quickly, barely leaving any impressions in the earth. If someone had been following them, they left no tracks to be of much help. But the ground was too muddy for anything to matter anyways.

Winds rushed, pushed, and stabbed as the girls jogged down the deserted street. The beam of the flashlight bounced with each movement, giving a sad beckon to what might be in their path. But neither dared to slow their steps. It wasn't a short walk to the police station from the school.

Several cars were turned in odd directions, a Focus on its roof, tires helpless in the air. A tree had been uprooted and tossed into a living room of a small ranch house. A pink flamingo hung from a dangling telephone wire.

Small eyes darted around looking for any form of danger. Both girls weren't going to go all girly and just simply run stupid like all those blondes in the scary movies. They were going to use their heads and get help in a timely manner.

Sirens sounded, red and blue lights were up ahead, around the corner. Footsteps became quicker. Eyes widened, breath became harder as they moved along. This was better than having to go all the way to the station. A police car was almost to the corner. Help was just up and around the bend.

There were suddenly two gasps. Two thuds. Nothing, but the sound of rain and a sudden panting. The rain water carried the crimson blood towards the sewer as it flowed from two different wounds.

Blue and red lights continued to flash. But the car turned away and went down the other part of the street. Headlights never lit up this part of the street.

Breathing stopped before there was a chance to call out. The panting slowed and a smile formed. White teeth flashed in the beam of light that was now facing backwards. A figure moved quickly away. Back towards the school.

TBC…


	10. Chapter 9: And the lightnin' flashes

**Title: And the Thunder Rolls**

**By: duffshel**

**Author's Note: **Well, it's kinda still the middle of the week. But, hey, in honor of the awesome-looking new episode tonight, here ya all go with a new chapter. So, we have a few more pieces of the puzzle to put into place. Now that we have our rescue null and void, what can possibly happen next? Have to read and see, now won't cha! As always, thanks to everyone for the reviews. Everyone is so dang kind and helpful! Go play, but look both ways before crossing the street! Bye!

**#9: And the lightnin' flashes in her eyes…**

There were tiny people in his brain. Lots of them. They were waging war with every one of his brain cells. And his little warriors were failing in the line of duty. White flags were being raised, cellular hands high in the air.

Nick groaned as he forced himself to keep moving forward. His brain was trying to free itself from his scalp with each move he made. The temping chair that Andrew had vacated was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen before. It was just too far away. It was really unfair.

A hand had recently taken place around his upper arm, helping him to move along. Under normal circumstances, it would have been shaken off and commented upon. But now, Nick was well aware that it was the only thing keeping him grounded, in reality. He wanted nothing more than to take a long, work free vacation from his body.

A voice wafted through the fog, "Come on, Nicky. Almost there. Keep walking."

The chair was solid under his hand, his grip. He shifted his weight and let the chair take hold of it. His brown eyes closed the minute the stress was off his legs and lower back. Nothing was given any thought, just completely ignored as he creaked and settled.

Fingers pulled at the waist of his shirt. It tickled and allowed cool air to touch the warm skin of his stomach. Brown eyes opened to slivers and looked straight into concerned green ones. A sigh escaped his lips and his head rolled backward a little as Warrick moved his shirt up some more.

"Need ya to lean back a little. Can't see the wound from this angle, man."

Warrick kept his voice low, his body shielding Nick from curious, young eyes. The boys were all trying to see what was wrong with the two CSI's. It was always intriguing to young boys to see wounds and blood. And here were some prime ones for examination.

Reaching up to undo the jean button and zipper once again, Warrick studied Nick's face. A flush of color not related to pain washed over the pale cheeks. Muttering a quick apology for this, Warrick tugged open the flaps and pulled the fabric downward a little. The blood was fresh and shinny where once white, flat cloth was.

"Damn man. Why the hell didn't you say anything about this?"

"And do what about it?" Nick mumbled.

"Could have done something. Now, just try to relax."

It was easier said than done. As the cloth of the gauze was pulled away from the lips of the ripped flesh, Nick hissed out the lung full of air he had been holding. The heat raised right off the new and old blood alike. Warrick almost couldn't bring himself to touch it to take a look at it.

His long fingers gently probed the outer ridges, trying to make certain nothing was stuck inside causing it to bleed so much. From what he could tell, it was clear. Nick just needed to chill for a bit and not move around so much. It may have a chance to stop bleeding then.

"Done yet, 'Rick?"

Nick's blood stood out on the denim of his own jeans as Warrick raised his eyes to look at his friend, "Yeah, not much I can do for it. Going to change the bandages though. Don't move."

He didn't wait for a response as Warrick stood and looked for the first aid kit that they had found earlier. It was on the floor underneath the table. The still man on top didn't move or even comment as Warrick reached down to grab up more bandages and tape. He looked down at the music director as he turned to move away. Mr. Kentwood looked as good as dead.

"You sleeping again?"

Nick grunted as he shifted his head, eyes still closed, "Shut up. Just hurry up. Its cold in here and my pants are open."

"Thought you always wanted your pants open. Keeps the ladies looking for more."

"How many ladies you see in here, bro? And I have no desire to go to jail for tempting a minor. Just slap that crap on there and button me back up."

"Didn't even buy me a drink first," Warrick shook his head.

"You never picked a bar. Not my fault."

The white bandages quickly turned pink, but Warrick didn't let it bother him too much. He just needed to get this done and rest himself. Once the tape was applied and pressed tight, Warrick helped Nick adjust his jeans so they could be zipped and buttoned once again. He stood quietly noticing Nick's chin was resting forward towards the broad chest. Nick was quickly falling asleep.

He rested a gentle hand on the Texan's shoulder, "Nick…Nick. You don't wanna fall asleep on this chair. Let's get ya propped up on the floor."

There was no respond other than a grunt and a mumbling of pale lips. Warrick looked around him and saw the pile that the kids had created with their stuff. He walked slowly towards it, looking over it with a calculating look.

"Hey guys, any of you mind if I use some of your stuff?"

"Like what?" Derek asked, suspiciously.

"Nothing big, dude. Just want to get something soft for my buddy to sit on when I move him to the floor."

Natalie shoved the taller boy away from her as she glared at them, "You guys are such jerks. Sure, use what you need."

The CSI smiled slightly and nodded at the young girl. He crouched down slowly, painfully and reached out a hand to ruffle through the belongings spread out. There was a jacket and a sweater. It wasn't much, but it would be enough to ease the stiffness of the tiling. He pulled both out and shuffled over to Nick,

On the other side of the table, there was an open space of wall and floor. He laid out the clothing and stood. His leg muscles pulled at all the movement he was putting them through. Warrick was beginning to think he would need to take a load off with his partner before they did anything else in this place.

Warrick headed over to where Nick was beginning to lean forward on the chair he was sitting on. The Texan had nodded off, breaths soft and slow. He didn't react as Warrick rested a hand on his shoulder. Nor to the small shake his body received. It wasn't until Warrick leaned forward and spoke right into his ear.

"Nick! Hey man!"

It was only three words, not said all that loudly, but it was enough to almost get Nick to jump straight off the chair, "Wha…?"

The grip on his shoulders was tight, but it kept him from hitting the floor. It seemed he needed lots of help lately to stay off the floor. A temper had built up on his little nap it seemed and now it was erupting through his entire being. This was not his idea of fun at all.

"Let go, Warrick. Don't need your help."

This was something Warrick wasn't prepared for. His hands were roughly shaken off, body falling forward a little. Anger filled the brown eyes that were narrowing right before him. This really wasn't something he was ready for.

"Bro? Just want to help ya to get off the chair and onto the floor. That way you can take a nap, get some rest."

"Don't! I don't need your help, _again_. Just drop it."

"Oh please. Don't start this shit again, Nick. All I wanna do it help you sit on the floor. That's not a crime, man."

"I can do it myself if it's such a big deal."

Nick started to push himself up when Brass and Andrew walked over to see what the problem was. They had heard the two CSI's voices getting louder by the second. Brass was worried they were going to start fighting. Neither would be able to stand it if this resulted in fists. He wanted to put a stop to it if at all possible.

"What's wrong with you two?"

"Nothing," Nick grumbled as he managed to get to his feet, waving around only a little. He could sense the strong hands waiting to catch him, ready for anything.

Andrew frowned, "Then what's with all the yelling? You two have been off since we got here."

"Let's not right now," Warrick shook his head, "Not in front of the kids. Have to look united for them."

They all knew that was true, but Greg couldn't help feeling a little upset. It was so close to coming to the surface. All he wanted to know was what was wrong with his two coworkers. This was getting bad when they fought over the tiniest things. Something was going to happen if they didn't let it all out.

"What're you doing Nick?"

Greg's eyes followed Nick's slow progress towards a small clothing pile on the floor. He hadn't seen anyone put that there. He had been helping with the checking over the kids while the two cops worked over the music director. And, he was timing Sam, but not telling anyone that.

"Told to get my ass off the chair and onto the floor. Working on it."

The words were pushed out past the rasps for breath. It was harder than it had looked to begin with. Nick was beginning to yearn to ask for that unwanted, undesired help. But his pride slammed those thoughts right down into the floor. He was sick of needing Warrick to do everything for him. It was bad enough that he couldn't change his own bandages.

Both articles of clothing were thin from where Nick looked down upon them. But as he lowered his bulk, they proved to be even worse. Other than taking away the chill of the tile, there was really no point to having these things spread out underneath him. But he knew better than to say anything. Nick really didn't want to fight anymore. It was hard enough to keep his eyelids open.

"Alright there, man?" Warrick asked, full of caution.

Nick let his eyelids win the battle and close down tightly over his eyes, "Just fine."

There was no emotion in those words. That worried everyone more than if they were said in anger, happiness, or contempt. It was never a good sign when Nick closed off enough to blank out his voice. Their normally emotional charged friend was turning away.

Brass could sense that Warrick wished to talk with Nick a little so he turned the other two men away, "Greg, Andy. We need to figure out what to do while we wait. Let's talk."

Using the tone of the command, neither asked any questions. Greg offered a supportive grin to Warrick before he moved away. Taking the only unoccupied space left in the room, the two cops and the young CSI were close enough to help, but far enough to be out of the way.

Looking down at Nick, Warrick shuffled to the man's right side and lowered himself to the floor. His legs rejoiced at this little respite from having to move around so much. Warrick didn't consider the fact that he would be stiffer than hell soon for quicker than a blink. Nick's pinched face drew his attention first and foremost.

"You want to tell me what's up?"

A breath escaped through flared nostrils, "Not really. Just want to rest a little, man. Not the best company right now."

It was a fact, but it still didn't please Warrick. He leaned back a little more, his shoulder brushing against Nick's. He was extremely thankful when his partner didn't pull away from him. In fact, Nick seemed to lean a little more on the extra support offered. Warrick grinned and closed his own eyes. The ground was hard, but it still felt good.

"As soon as your ready to talk 'bout this, I'll be ready."

But the words fell on sleeping ears. Nick's head slid sideways, causing it to crash softly against Warrick's neck and shoulder. Shifting a little, Warrick managed to get Nick's head fully on his left shoulder, his own arm helping to keep the other man still. This is what his partner needed. Not thinking too much, Warrick let himself drift off. The waiting would be easier.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Greg shifted around as he looked over at the two sleeping CSI's on the floor. He knew they needed that little respite, but he couldn't help to think that they needed to be awake and alert. The two cops were talking, filling the background with noise that he couldn't bring himself to listen fully to. Only when a name was mentioned did Greg give any thought to it.

He also kept checking his watch. The three and the girl had returned to the room longer than ten minutes ago, though he wasn't quite sure on the exact figure. But, that was when Sam had left the room. No way had it taken a guy that long to hit the bathroom and come back.

"Greg?"

His attention was wrapped around the new sound and pulled him into the present, "Huh?"

"You all there, man?" Andrew chuckled at the confused look he received from the younger man. He had been watching the CSI and noticed that something was bothering him and it wasn't the two men on the other side of the room.

"Yeah, just fine. Just drifting, I guess."

Brass coughed and cocked his head to the side, "Care to share."

It wasn't a question. Never meant to be one. This was an order given from Detective Jim Brass.

"Just wondering what's taking Sam so long."

"Sam? One of the kids?"

It suddenly hit the two that Brass hadn't really been present for the exit of Sam from the room. Greg couldn't even really remember Brass getting a look at the kid as he slipped out into the hallway. And from the glare he was getting, he was now sure of it.

"Where is he?"

"He asked to go the bathroom," Andrew pulled at his shirt collar a little as the temperature in the room sudden shot up a few degrees, "And since it's in working order, we let him go."

"Without an escort?"

"Not a date," Greg mumbled under his breath to himself.

"What was that, Sanders?"

"Nothing, just that we didn't think it was a big deal. All he was supposed to do is run in there and back. Lickity-split and all."

Brass sudden felt old and worn, "In a school where there is severe damage, people possibly dead, and unsafe structures, you let a teenage boy wander off all by himself."

"Yeah…"

Both younger men shrank under the tone and look Brass was handing down. Greg had questioned the idea before, but neither had put much thought into it past that. It was supposed to be just a quick bathroom run. No need for make up.

"You two idiots better go look for him then. I'll stay here with them. Get 'im and get the hell back here."

Not sparing another word, Brass walked away towards the vacated chair. He had nothing more to say to those two boys about this matter. They were going to have to find the boy and make sure he hadn't gotten into any trouble on this bathroom run. He shook his head as he sat down. '_Ridiculous.'_

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Andrew led the way from the room, his steps quick. He had an idea from listening to the other talk, which door the small bathroom was behind. Sure enough, he found it with no trouble. His fist lifted and rapped hard against the door.

"Sam? Hey man? You in there?"

He held his breath, listening hard for anything. No voices, no running water, nothing was coming from behind the door. Andrew looked over his shoulder at Greg's wide eyes before he reached down to grab the handle. It opened with ease.

The room was dark on the other side. Greg pushed his way past Andrew and walked into the small confines first. His eyes swept over every surface. It was the sink that caught his attention. While it was perfectly logical, but unsanitary, the sink was bone dry.

"I don't think he was in here. Sink's dry."

"Teenager. Washing hands is something outside most of their vocabulary."

"I dunno. These are proper kids in a proper school. I'd think they knew something that simple."

"No sigh on the door saying please wash hands before returning to class. Possible the kid just wanted to get out of here right away and take a look around. Something might be troubling him about something."

The way the cop said the last sentence caught Greg's attention fully, "You think he did it?"

"He was kinda quiet through it all and suddenly, he needed to run to the bathroom. Personally, all my bladder functions left the scene once the sound of the tornados hit."

Greg thought about it for a second too and realized he hadn't needed to answer the call of nature yet. And it had been a few hours since he had last done so. He thought that after a traumatic event, everyone had to pee. Seems it wasn't true. No one, but Sam had said anything about it and it was a good deal of time later.

"Where'd you think he is?"

"Band room," Andrew said with no thought. That's where he would want to go right away. It was the only place with a portal to the outside world. Even if the boy couldn't get through it, seeing it was the next best thing.

Glancing back at the sink, Greg nodded, "Alright, let's check it out. I don't want to see Brass again empty handed."

The two men walked out of the room before Andrew suddenly stopped and turned around, back towards the bathroom. Greg watched with interest as the cop propped the door open with the garbage can. Now anyone could see fully into the room, no hidden corners. Greg raised an eyebrow.

"What? Now we will be able to tell if anyone goes in there or not. Just shut up, Greg."

Slapping the other man's shoulder, Andrew got them moving along. His feet felt heavy, but he kept them working. They needed to find that boy. They needed to figure out what was going on. They needed a plan.

TBC…


	11. Chapter 10: And he knows that she knows…

**Title: And the Thunder Rolls**

**By: duffshel**

**Author's Note: **Long time no see, eh! Really wanted to have this up some time yesterday, but I dunno, didn't like this at all. Agonized over it for a few more hours. Figured it was the best I could get so I gave up. Now, here it is! So yeah, here it is. Thanks for the reviews on the last chapter even though I know it wasn't the most exciting. Hope this one makes up for that a little. And we learn a bit on why the two guys are fighting! Never done a flashback before, so, here it goes! Alright, I'm done. Hope you all enjoy and let me know. I have no idea how much longer this will be, but I expect things to start moving…downhill from here. Bye!

**#10: And he knows that she knows…**

_Nick walked to his fridge and pulled open the door. The blast of cold air was enough for his arm flesh to goose bump even against the air conditioning already running. He had never kept it that cold in his house no matter what the temperature outside was. Growing up in Texas had thinned his blood too much and he couldn't take a lot of cold air rushing around him._

_The neck of the beer bottle felt good against the roughness his hands. His last case had been a hard one, beat up bad on his hands. Nick never liked have to work to the point where his hands hurt like hell when he got home. It wasn't like he was a mechanic or something. CSI work wasn't supposed to be this hard on the hands, only the brain._

_He threw his head back, opening up his throat to the rush of dark beer. Sure, it was early morning and most people wouldn't dream of taking a beer out like this, but Nick needed something to help calm his nerves a little. Not that he was going to have more than one. Getting drunk was never his prerogative. The last time had proved to be bad enough for him. Warrick had to come to his house and baby-sit him then. Never again. Not like that._

_After finishing his extremely large swallow, Nick wiped the back of his left hand across his mouth and set the beer down on the counter. His townhouse looked dirty as he swept his eyes around. He had the next shift off. It would be the perfect time to catch up on some simple chores. _

_Rubbing a hand on the back of his neck, Nick walked out of the kitchen and headed down his hallway to his bedroom. He had dressed comfortably for work, but all he wanted to do right then was get out of those clothes and into his down clothes. They were laying out on the bed waiting for him. It was something he had gotten into the habit with. Never wanted to hunt down clothes once he got home._

_Nick peeled the shirt from his body, sticking in some places from old sweat. The jeans rolled off, left on the floor in a pile. Looking down at his torso, Nick grimaced. He needed to take a quick shower. Maybe then he would feel more human. Scratching at his bare stomach, Nick walked out of the bedroom and crossed the hall to his bathroom. _

_His blue towel hung on the rail waiting for him. Pulling off the last item of clothing he had left, Nick jumped under the warm spray of water. Not wasting much time, Nick did the essentials then jumped back out. Toweling dry, he did feel a little more relaxed. Now, maybe he could watch that new Discovery Channel DVD, eat some breakfast, and get some sleep._

_Hanging the towel back up, Nick walked back into his bedroom to pull on the new clothes waiting for him. They felt crisp and clean against his skin. Now he felt more like himself. It made him smile. Nothing big, but it was a smile._

_Nick left his dirty clothes where he left them. Since he would be cleaning up the place later, he could handle that then. Besides, his stomach was beginning to rumble. All he had during that last shift was an apple and a protein shake. Seems that sustenance was now completely used and gone._

_Reopening his fridge after another swallow of beer, Nick found a white Styrofoam container holding his leftovers from two nights ago. Opening the package, the Mexican food filled his senses. Even cold and slightly old, it seemed good. He pulled the burritos out and placed them on a plate. It fit in the microwave with ease. Now all he had to do was wait. _

_He grabbed his beer and pulled out some more of the liquid. Thinking to himself, he suddenly remembered he still had some of his mother's salsa left. He quickly pulled the jar out along with a package of shredded cheese. This was going to be a leftover meal for a king. Nick couldn't help, but to feel a little excited._

_Once his food was ready, Nick carried the plate on a pot holder out to his living room, beer in the other hand. He placed them both on his living room table before straightening up and heading over to his entertainment system. The DVD was on top of the player. It was one he had been waiting to see since he had seen a preview commercial for it. It was a regional informational video on Nevada bird species. _

_Nick set things up with all the remotes he needed and got the movie going. The back of the case said it was two hours long. Should be enough time to relax and prepare for bed. It was perfect. He headed back to his couch, grabbing his fork, ready to eat. The doorbell interrupted him._

_Sighing and throwing down the fork, Nick put his hands on his knees and got off the couch. He walked slowly towards his door, wondering who the hell would be there at this time in the day. No one had said anything at the lab. But he stopped thinking as he opened the door._

"_Hey man. Didn't interrupt ya did I?" Warrick asked, his hands in his pockets._

"_Nah, just sat down for some breakfast. Not going to bed quite yet. Come on in."_

_Nick moved to the side of the door to allow his friend to walk into the room. He closed the door and walked back over to his couch. Warrick sat himself down in one of the two chairs Nick had in his living room._

"_Breakfast?" Warrick raised his eyebrows at the red and yellow concoction he could see on the blue plate. He never understood how the man could eat that stuff and still be able to move._

"_Still good. And the salsa is perfect. Should try some."_

"_No thanks. I want Tina to kiss me when I get home. Not run the other way."_

_Nick laughed and reached for his fork again, "Well, I'm gonna eat it. And you need to tell me what you're doing here."_

_Reaching for the beer on the table, Warrick sat back in the chair and worked on finishing Nick's beverage. He had been debating the entire way over here if he really should even bring this up with his fellow CSI. Warrick knew how touchy Nick could be about his personal life. This might be territory even a best friend wasn't supposed to touch._

"_Well, I know you have the next shift off. So do Tina and me. So…well, she has a friend who just moved to the area. And I was wondering if…you wanted to meet up with us and hang out."_

_Nick stopped in mid-chew. This was not something he had been expecting. Sure, Warrick had always given his shit about his relationships with women, but never before tried to set him up. Of course, he was never married before either. _

"_Hang out?"_

"_Yeah. Tina told her about you and she was interested in meeting you. Her name's Anna. Seems nice. So Tina wants to introduce the two of you to each other. I thought it'd be safest to do it through a double date."_

"_A double date?"_

_The taller CSI shifted uncomfortably, "Yeah. Might be fun."_

"_Why?"_

_He had really been expected a "where" instead. Warrick finally looked Nick in the eye and didn't like the emotions he found there. His friend was always honest with eyes whether he wanted to be or not. Now, it was clear Nick was confused, sad, and angry about this suggestion._

"_Just wanna help you out, man. Might be good for you to get out once a'while."_

_Nick's face hardened, "You think? What if I don't agree with you?"_

"_Oh come on. Like it's healthy for you to sit at home alone all the damn time. Won't hurt you to get out there and meet knew people. Not all strangers are bad people."_

"_Sure, sure. No, of course not," Nick's voice drifted off at the end, eyes lost a little._

"_Nick, you need to get out. Not like you'll be alone with her. I'll be there with Tina. Just dinner and maybe we can walk around. Nothing big."_

"_No."_

_Warrick really should have known this wasn't going to be easy. He had been hoping Nick would understand this was to help him, not hurt him. His best friend had developed some stranger issues and had trouble meeting new people. Nick's love life was suffering from that. Warrick just wanted to help._

"_Why not? Would be good for ya."_

"_No," he repeated himself as he looked down at his cooling food. This was not helping him at all. Warrick wanted him to go out with a person he had never met before. No one understood why this bothered him so much. Yeah, he never really told them, but he didn't think he had to. Anyone could be a person that would shove a gun in your face, stalk you, or shove you in a glass coffin. Nick wasn't willing to go searching for it when that stuff found him so well on its own._

"_I just don't want to, man. Just leave it alone."_

_Warrick was beginning to get angry, "Why? You just want to sulk around here all the time. You never go out with any of us anymore, man."_

"_Not difficult when no one has time to 'hang' out with me, Warrick."_

_It was true. With everyone moving quickly to get away from the trauma they all had suffered at the hands of that mad man, Nick had been left in the dust. Warrick couldn't say he still hung out with his best friend as much as he did before he was married. And none of the others from the lab went out of their way to have group breakfasts or lunches anymore. Now they only seemed to see each other when that time was involved with work._

"_So, when I make the effort and reach out, you push me away. Nice, bro."_

"_Oh, don't bro me," Nick had to stand up as his anger rose, "I simply said I don't want to go on a double date with this girl. Not that big of a deal. I don't need you to set me up. Just let me be."_

_He stomped out of the room into the kitchen. Now he was going to have to have a second beer. But the fridge door was being held closed by Warrick's hand. Nick glared at the appendage before raising his eyes to meet his so-called friend's._

"_What?"_

"_You're not going to drink this one away. Just admit you need to get out of here. I'm going to help you whether you want me to or not."_

"_Don't need you help. Didn't ask for your help. You can just leave if you're going to keep it up."_

"_Fine. I won't help you again. Just sit here and wallow in your stupidity. Die alone if you want."_

_Warrick threw up his hands and turned away from Nick. He walked with long steps to the front door. As he opened it, he looked back. Nick hadn't moved from the spot he had left. The Texan's eyes were on the floor. Warrick knew he should say something, but couldn't bring himself to think of something right then. His irrational anger had taken control. He would only make it worst. So he let himself out of the townhouse._

_The door shut hard. Nick looked up and groaned. This really wasn't something he had wanted to deal with. But he knew it was stupid and there was no reason for them to fight over it. Now it was too late to take anything back. They both said dumb things and pissed each other off. _

_He looked over at the meal he had been excited about. Now all it did was turn his stomach. Nick shook his head and walked over to the television. Once everything was turned off, he turned around and left things as they were. Now all he wanted to do was sleep and forget this had ever happened._

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

That had happened a week ago, but Nick couldn't stop the memories from filtering into his dreams. He had thought long and hard about that night, but couldn't come up with a decent way to fix things. He and Warrick had gone on like it never happened. But now everyone could see the tension that that night had created. Nick's face frowned in his sleep.

There was something warm and heavy resting up against him. Or, he was leaning against something warm and heavy. Nick was still too asleep to think much about it. He let the thoughts die into blackness. His body hurt too much to dwell on it anymore. Rest was what he needed now.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Andrew whistled as he took in the mess that the band room was. This was destruction at its finest. He hadn't seen the room since before the tornadoes had hit. Now that he had, he was really glad that he had been babysitting the kids when it all went down.

Greg shook his head, one hand rising to rest against the back of it, "Where is he?"

"No clue. Not too many places to hide in here," Andrew walked a little further into the room. His head moved from side to side looking for any movement. That kid wasn't in here either. But it didn't make any sense. This was the one place with a way out. Why not here?"

"Well, shit. Now what do we do?"

"Hope Brass doesn't kill us," Greg tried to sound humorous, but it sounded fake to him. He was sure that Andrew heard right through it.

He didn't want to go back to tell the detective they hadn't found the kid. That was not something that would be good for his health. And Greg wanted to know where that little brat had run off to anyways. This was not somewhere to run around in alone. Unless there was something that one needed to do alone.

"He will. Even if we find the kid, he'll lecture us into next year."

"Thanks, Andy. Made me feel so much better. Don't take it up as a job."

"Shut up, man," Andrew groaned and turned around to face Greg again, "Where the hell is he?"

The cop threw his arms out from his body and looked around. He was losing his control on the situation. Andrew never hated anything besides not knowing what was happening. Now, Sam was still missing and Brass was pissed off.

"Think we could weasel our way out that hole?" Andrew tossed his head to the side.

Greg grinned, "Really don't want to deal with Brass, huh?"

"What'd you think?"

Both men grinned and looked around them a little more. They both knew they had to move on, but were afraid to leave the room. Once they left, they would have to go back into that other room. Where Brass was waiting. And they didn't have anything good to report.

"Alright. Enough bullshitting around. Let's go."

Andrew walked past the CSI, shoulders brushing slightly. It was enough to get Greg to turn and follow. His mind was running rapid with ideas on what Sam could be off doing. Greg was coming up sadly short. There wasn't anything left that a teenage boy could possible want.

As Andrew reached the door of the room, he took one step out into the hallway. Greg was right behind him, he could hear the other man's breathing. He looked down the hallway, forehead crinkled in a frown. The lights slammed off. He heard Greg gasp. His own blood went cold.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Brass stood to the side in the room, taking in everything around him. For some reason, he had to know what everything was in this place. The kids, the CSI's, the tables. It was all categorized in his mind. This helped him from getting any amount of panic in his blood. Brass was not going to look a fool in front of anyone.

He looked over at Nick and Warrick. They were both asleep, deeply at that. He couldn't help, but to smile at the sight. Both were injured and needed to take a break. Maybe once they were awake, they would be useful again. The frown that had taken place on Nick's face worried him a little. At one point, it looked as if the Texan would wake up, but never did.

The teenagers were all in different stages of boredom. A card game had started again between Derek and Kevin. Brass couldn't tell what game it was. It was quick and they were silent about it. Only sharp glances and hand gestures went between the two boys. They seemed to know each other. But Brass was sure these kids weren't friends. Just band members. Maybe he was wrong.

Kyle was sitting on the floor now, back resting against the wall. It appeared he was taking the hint from the two CSI's and was trying to get some sleep. His head was leaning forward, bangs resting over his eyes so Brass couldn't see much of his face. But since the kid was asleep, he wasn't too worried about him at the moment.

As for the girl, Natalie was squirming around in her chair. She would find one position for a few minutes then shift into a different one. Her legs contorted under her body, between flesh and plastic. Females could move and bend in ways that just shocked Brass' mind. There was no way he would ever be able to sit like that, even on a couch.

Her eyes kept darting over to look at him as if she were debating whether she could come over and ask a question. It was in big, bright lights over her head. Natalie had something she needed to ask, but couldn't work up the courage to approach the scary looking cop. It looked to Brass that she finally won that courage as she got up from the chair and shuffled over to him.

"Sir?"

"Yes?" he kept his voice low and soft. Now that she was standing in front of him, he wasn't going to do anything to scare her off.

"Um…would it possible…"

She was shy. Her question ended before the older man could even think of what she wanted. Brass kept his eyes wide in question as he looked down at her. She shifted her weight from foot to foot as she chewed on her lower lip.

"Could I…use…the restroom?"

It was quiet and she leaned forward with every word she spoke. His face broke into a small grin at the unease the girl had with asking him that. But then he remembered what happened the last time when one of these kids asked that question. There was no way she was going to go alone.

"Alright, but not alone," Brass stood completely upright and looked over at the boys, "Kevin, get over here."

The boys stopped their game and both lifted their heads. Both wore looks of confusion, but seeing the look Brass was giving them, Kevin jumped out of his chair. The boy walked quickly over and stood looking at the ground.

"You're going to go with her."

"To where?" Kevin hadn't heard anything Natalie had said since she moved over to ask Brass her question.

"She needs to use the restroom. You're going with."

Both faces turned crimson at the thought, "Not together. Stand outside the door while the other is in there. We'll send everyone, but in shifts and groups of two."

Brass wiped at his forehead as the kids still kept the blushes on their cheeks. He had to keep reminding himself that kids today thought of things differently than he had when he was young. Too much television and music videos. He shook his head.

"You two think you can handle that?"

Natalie nodded, "Yes. I need to go now."

"Alright. Five minutes and I want you two back here. I'm going to stay in the doorway. You two go anywhere else, I'll know."

They nodded and moved to leave. Brass was right on their heels. He watched them walk down the hallway towards the single bathroom. Natalie opened the door and shut it quickly in Kevin's face. The boy stuck his tongue out at the wooden barrier and leaned against the wall next to it.

Brass leaned back into the room and look at everyone else. Derek was watching him with calm eyes. Everyone else was still sleeping. Nick and Warrick never even flinched when the power to the room shut off, bathing them all in black darkness. Brass cursed and felt for his light. He didn't have it. It was lost in the dark. Along with the other people in the room.

TBC…


	12. Chapter 11: She reaches for the pistol…

**Title: And the Thunder Rolls**

**By: duffshel**

**Author's Note: **Well, here we are with another overdue post. So sorry! I had a really bad week and just couldn't get into the writing mode. But, I forced myself to do it so I could get this out. Just hope it works as well as it seems to. Thanks for everyone on the last chapter! Means a lot. I actually went back and reread a bunch to remind myself that people are waiting on this and I should get into gear. So, thank you. Give yourselves a pat on the back since you helped get this one out. Though…well…oh hell, just go read it! See ya all hopefully sooner next time! Bye!

**#11: She reaches for the pistol…**

The town was in complete shambles. Catherine sat completely still in the passenger seat, starring out the window trying to take in everything. The destruction was nothing like she was expecting. She had seen several trees missing several limbs to being completely uprooted. Cars were dented, windshields shattered, and large paint scratches.

Houses were in different stages of tragedy. There was one that looked like someone took a shovel right through the center of it. Catherine was sure she had seen the toilet as they drove past, but was too shocked to ask Grissom to slow down or even stop. They had already lost enough time having to reroute so they would be able to get to the police station.

And her company for this little journey was completely silent. The supervising CSI hadn't said anything since they walked out the lab doors. Catherine didn't even think she had even heard him breathe heavier than normal. Her breathing had been loud enough for the both of them.

From what she knew of this city, they were close. They should arrive in less than five minutes if they didn't have to make anymore detours. She wanted nothing more than to get out of that damn SUV so she could get the answers to all the questions that were swimming through her brain. Nothing was going to stop her from getting them.

The station was soon in her sights. Her back straightened up more, her fingers started drumming on her pant leg. Now she heard the slight sigh from the man sitting next to her. Catherine swiveled her eyes over to see if she could figure out what emotion she had missed from that noise. Grissom was giving her nothing. It was typical. Her knee started bouncing.

"What're you thinking?"

It caught Grissom off guard, though all he showed for it was a quick raise of his eyebrow, "What do you mean?"

"Oh come on," her breath escaped in a rush of words, "We're about to find out about the guys. You have to be thinking something."

Grissom starred straight forward, not making any more to glance at the blonde woman sitting next to him. He had been thinking during the entire drive. There hadn't been one moment where his mind wasn't pulled from the focus of driving. But he had no skills in getting those thoughts into words. They were never supposed to leave the safety of his mind.

"Nothing."

"Nothing?" The disgust and sarcasm was ripe in her voice. There were too many times that Catherine wanted nothing more than to slap Grissom across the back of the head. Her friend really knew how to wear on her nerves like no one else.

The SUV pulled smoothly into the parking spot. Grissom opened his door and stepped out without offering a single word back to Catherine. He could hear her mumbling in frustration and the truck shook behind him with the power she used to close the door. Shaking his head, he walked after the blonde hurricane.

Catherine didn't bother to keep quiet as she entered the station. She looked quickly around the room, by passing the front desk girl with ease. A uniform and a frown directed her attention. Her feet carried her forward without any thought.

A small, feminine voice tried to break her gait, stop her in her tracks, "Excuse me? You can't go back there without clearance. Excuse me!"

But the CSI ignored her and walked right over the officer she had sighted in, "Hey. Where's the sheriff?"

Grissom followed behind her with less of a storm, merely glancing at the irate secretary. He looked at the officer that Catherine had cornered, looking very much like a deer in head lights. The man's mouth floundered at first before finding the ability to form any words.

"He's in his office…who are you people?"

Thinking fast, Grissom pulled out his badge and opened it for the other man to look at, "We're with the Vegas Crime Lab. Out guys were helping out on that case at the school."

As soon as the cop heard those words, his face lost all color. He didn't say another word, just jerked his head to say he wanted them to follow him. Catherine bolted and almost walked on the heels of his shoes in her hurry. The lack of words from the man had he concern bumping up a few notches.

They weaved through numerous officers, some laughing and joking with each other as if the world outside the walls wasn't in chaos. Grissom had always wondering how people would act upon the end of the world. If this little scenario had any merit at all, he would have to say with a smile and a laugh. He shook his head and swallowed back the response he knew he would have.

The door to the office was closed. Without even knocking, the officer opened the door and walked off before anything could be asked of him. His gait was quick, his steps loud enough to echo through the hall.

"Who is it?" The voice was gruff and impatient. It was clear the sheriff had no desire to speak with anyone at this moment. Grissom entered the room first.

"Sheriff, I'm Gil Grissom with the crime lab. This is Catherine Willows, my associate. We're looking for Detective Jim Brass and our CSI's."

The broad, tall man rubbed at his stubble covering his chin as he looked at the two people standing in front of his desk, "Call me Steve. I was on sight with your detective for a little while. Left to get back here and prepared once the weather started going to hell. Haven't seen him since."

"So, they're not here?" Catherine's voice went up an octave by the end of the short sentence.

"No. My officers arrived back here together. No one was with them. From what I was told, your people were just finishing up and would be leaving soon. No need to worry about them."

Grissom nodded his head slowly as he took everything in, "Who told you this?"

Sheriff Steven Baker looked down at his desk, at the paper he had spread out over it. His right hand reached out and pulled a random sheet out from a yellow folder. There were several different styles of handwriting all over the paper. Catherine couldn't catch a glimpse of it as the man quickly put it away once again.

"Officer Duncan was the reporting officer once they returned to the station," the sheriff got up from his chair and walked around the desk, "If you would follow me."

"He's still here?"

The other man nodded at Catherine's question as he led them out his office and left into the hallway, "I pulled all my officers in when the tornados hit. We're just getting around to cleaning things up. Had to get a hold of the fire department to get things in order. Most of my people are still here."

"The storm has been over for awhile now. Why so long?"

"We're a smaller department than that of Las Vegas, ma'am. Takes more time to get things organized and I'll admit, I don't get along with the fire chief well. Had a few disagreements on how to proceed. But I assure you, we are not letting the people of this city suffer without help. Everyone will do what they can."

The walked to what looked to be a small break room. A short man sat on the couch, head leaned back, eyes closed. His uniform still appeared to be damp. He jumped when he heard people enter and one clear their throat.

"Oh shit, Steve…um, sorry. Just needed to get my thoughts back together first, sir. I'll be on my way now."

Sheriff Baker held up his hands, stopping the officer, "Calm down for a second, Pete. Just have a couple questions for you before you head out. These are more CSI's from Vegas. Wondering where their people are."

The man stood quickly and looked at the two guests standing in the room, "I was the last officer to leave to scene from Boulder. Detective Brass told me they'd finish up soon and head back out. So, I left with the others. Never saw the CSI's though."

"How long before the storm was that?" Grissom asked quietly.

"It was getting pretty bad by the time I even got in my car. The tornados hit almost immediately after I got here. We all took cover and once it was over, I gave my report quickly so I'd be ready to head out with aid."

Catherine pulled in a shaky breath and closed her eyes. They had nothing still. Her boys were still out there somewhere. No one knew where. Acting on a limb, she walked out of the break room and pulled out her cell phone. Her fingers moved quickly over the key pad and she raised it to her ear. It rang a couple of times, enough time for her to feel Grissom move to her side.

A voice picked up on the other end. Catherine quirked up one side of her mouth, "Jacqui, its Catherine. I was calling to see….yeah, have they?…uh huh…thanks. Bye."

She flipped the phone closed and turned to look Grissom in the eyes, "No one's seen them back at the lab. Gil, they're still here somewhere."

"Alright," Grissom turned back towards the sheriff, "We need to get to that school and see if we can figure out what happened. How long?"

"Roads are pretty messed up. Not going to be a quick ride. Might have to detour a great deal. But we'll get there. Pete, go find a couple people and get set up. We have a possible rescue mission at the school."

The two CSI's could hear people moving around them, orders being given. But both were too wrapped up in their own minds. No one knew what had happened to Warrick, Nick, or Greg. Brass and Andrew were still missing as well. Catherine couldn't bear to think of all the possibilities. She wouldn't be able to bear it.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Brass could hear several people gasp, cry out, and shuffle around in the darkness. He reached out in front of his for the wall when a flash of light to his right caught his attention. Andrew was holding up his flashlight, pointing it at Brass' chest.

"You two okay?"

The light bobbed as Andrew nodded his head, "Yeah. We were in the doorway when the lights dropped. Greg's right behind me."

Sure enough, as Andrew took a couple of steps forward, Greg emerged from the room. The young CSI walked with large steps to keep close to the cop and his light. Both men stopped in front of the detective and Andrew pointed the light towards the ceiling, lighting up all their faces.

"I need to find my light. Not on me."

Andrew nodded and slipped past Brass into the room. He swept the room, stopping to rest on two scared teenage boys. A frown twisted up the man's lips as he did some mental math. The beam lit up Nick and Warrick next as he moved in a small circle. Warrick lifted up a hand to block out the light, but Andrew didn't wait for any more movement from the two.

"Hey. We're missing two more kids."

"Oh shit," Brass jumped into the room where he saw his own flashlight. It was on the table with the music director though he didn't remember setting it there. He shook his head and picked it up.

"Sent Natalie and Kevin to the small bathroom. I'll go check."

"Take Greg with you. I'll go check on 'Rick and Nick," Andrew moved away, into the room more, "You two kids don't move."

Derek and Kyle nodded their heads slowly, eyes still owl wide. They did get to their feet and move closer to the cop as he walked over to the CSI's. Andrew noticed they both sat in the chair by the table that their music teacher was still passed out on.

His knee popped slightly as he squatted down in front of the two men still on the floor. Warrick was rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, blinking rapidly against the sudden brightness of the small beam of light.

"What happened?" his voice was rough with sleep and confusion.

"No clue, man. Lights just went bust. Oh, and we're missing three kids now. Only have two left."

"What?"

Andrew shrugged at looked at the still sleeping Nick, "You drug him or something?"

"Nah. He's just wiped out. Injured. Not a good combo. I'll get him up."

His long fingers wrapped around Nick's shoulder and Warrick pulled his arm back and forth to attempt to wake the Texan. He was rewarded with a groan and his hand shrugged off. Nick lifted his left hand to rub at the tiredness in his eyes as he slowly opened them. It was bright in one spot, dark everywhere else. He shut his eyes against it.

"Hrrmph…"

Warrick laughed at the response, "Come on, bro. Wake your ass up."

He watched with a grin on his lips as Nick shook his head and worked on pulling his eyelids open. Nick grimaced as his muscles stretched and pulled. What was the worst was that damn cut on his hip. His each ripple of his ads, his hip bones shifted and pulled at his cut. Without even realizing, his hand dropped to cover the area, to protect it.

"What happened?"

"Lights went out. Have to check it out. Brass and Greg left to find the kids?"

Nick's eyes took a look of complete confusion, "Huh? The kids?"

"Yeah, we're missing three of 'em. Sam, Natalie, and Kevin from the looks of it. Andy's gonna check on the director and then we can figure out what to do. But we need ya awake to do this."

"Working on it. Give me a minute."

"How's the wound?"

"Just dandy," Nick grunted as he worked on getting to his feet. His lower back muscles had a spasm, sending weird pains through his legs. Nick never had been one with back issues, so this was all kind of new to him. He put his hands on his hips and looked over at the table and all the people huddled around it. All high spirits were gone from this place.

Warrick got to his feet and moved over to where Andrew was standing. He didn't want to stay and wait around in this room. With a quick glance at Nick to make sure the other man was slightly distracted, he leaned closer to Andrew.

"Hey. I'm gonna go help Brass and Greg. Keep an eye on Nick and don't lose these two."

"Alright, but if he kills me, I'm going to haunt you and your bride, got it!"

"Sure. Feel free, but the bedroom and bathroom will be completely off limits."

Grinning, Warrick walked over to the table where Nick's kit still sat. He pulled it opened and squinted to see inside with the minimal light. Andrew must have seen him because the light suddenly hit him with full force. Inside, he didn't see anything, but a mess. He sighed and shook his head as he stood upright. But Warrick suddenly got an idea.

"Hey, Andy. Shine the light over there," he pointed to the spot where the kids had gotten the first aid kit. Warrick walked over and opened the cabinet again. He smiled at the sight of the three flashlights. Grabbing them all, he stood and walked over to Nick. The Texan took it, not quite sure what he was to do quite yet. Warrick put the other on the table by Andrew.

"See you guys soon," Warrick left quickly before Nick could comment or say anything. His beam was thick and unsure. He sure wished for his normal light. But it was gone, crushed.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Greg walked as close to Brass as he possibly could. It almost seemed easier to hop on the man's back and ask for a piggy back ride. Then all the shuffling and mumbled apologized would seem worthless. He had no idea why he was back on in this mess. With Jim Brass of all people.

The bathroom had been deserted. No one was there. Brass swore he had seen the girl go in, the boy staying outside to lean against the wall. Even with the adrenaline rush from the lights being shut down, he was sure he would have heard the door open and close. And neither of the kids passed them on their way back into the room. They were somewhere. But he was leery to call out to them.

They kept walking. Brass wanted to check to see if the generators were still working or not. Something might have just fired, or a circuit might have blown. He wasn't about to think there was no possibility to get the lights back on. It was just a pain in the ass having Greg right on his back the entire way.

"Sanders, back up. Don't need you to walk all over me," he hissed over his shoulder at the younger man.

The CSI ducked his head down, sheepish smile resting on his lips, "Sorry, just nervous."

"About what? What can possibly go wrong?"

"Not going to answer that," Greg shook his head quickly as they approached the door for the generator.

Brass reached out and opened it. He allowed the beam from his light to fill the room. There was something off, but he couldn't quite put a name to it. Something was familiar yet so unknown. It confused the detective to the point where he was rooted to the spot. Only his hand with the light and his eyes moved. It was then that he caught it.

"What's the hold up?" Greg tried to look over his shoulder into the room. He was the same height as the older man, but looking over that broad shoulder was work. It seemed that the cop was trying to shield him from something. That confused him since he had seen a lot over the past couple of years.

"Just…just stay right here for a minute."

Watching where he placed his feet, Brass slowly walked into the gloom and doom. The beam hit the floor directly in front of him, reflecting back off the tiny specks that were here and there. His right foot had to jump forward at an odd angle, but he kept up his pace.

The generators were silent. It was starting to chill now that the bolts and screws of the machines were no longer in use. He had little hope anything would work any longer. Those holes he just passed were not manufactured for this unit. Someone had gotten sloppy, but he would leave it for now.

Brass was almost to the back of the room when he stopped and turned. He was standing in complete profile to where Greg had stayed. The emotions that spread over the brow of the man were too complicated for Greg to keep up with. But he remained where he was told. Something was up.

"What'd you find?"

"Well, only two kids missing now. Watch your step," Brass swung the light back so Greg could see where to walk so they wouldn't contaminate anything.

Now it was clear to the CSI. The blood trail was sparse and splattered. It fell from a height. Something, someone, had been bleeding, but was able to stay upright. He walked almost the same as Brass had and kept his eyes down to the ground.

"Look left quick. What do you think?"

Greg stopped immediately and swiveled his head. The large machine had three holes in the keypad on its side. They were ragged and uneven. It was the lowest one that looked like it had been made last. They were small and they hadn't heard anything loud. "Knife."

"Thought so. Well, then this won't shock you too much."

The tone in the other man's voice caught Greg off guard and his steps were shakier than he would have like them to be. He was sure he was going to step right in one of the drops and drag it all around with him. Grissom would have his head for getting his kicks in the evidence. Bile rose in his throat a little as he walked to the detective's side.

Sam was positioned on his back, wedged between the two large pieced of the generator. One leg was bent at the knee and hooked around a pipe to keep the boy's body from slipping. Both arms were flung out from the torso. Eyes were wide open and glazed to a dull gray. The slash across his throat was a deep burgundy in the light of the flashlight.

"Who did this?"

It was a dumb question, but Greg couldn't stop his brain from processing it and allowing his mouth to form the words. He hadn't even dreamed that the kid would be a victim. Hell, Andrew had him believing Sam was probably the number one suspect in all this. Now he was dead, blood no longer running though his veins.

"Someone carried him in here. There blood isn't in a dragging motion across the floor," Brass grunted out. He moved the light downward a little as he thought about this. Footsteps behind the men caught them both off guard and Brass automatically reached for his weapon.

Warrick threw his hands up by his face, "Hey, whoa. Just hold it."

"Damn Warrick! Not the time to be sneaking around here. And where the hell did you get that light?"

"Wasn't sneaking. Just coming to help. Got the light from the other room," he took in both men's postures and facial expressions, "What's wrong?"

Brass cleared his throat a little, "Found Sam. Don't walk in here. Evidence."

It was Warrick's turn to take everything in from his spot in the doorway, "I thought everyone was searched by the Boulder cops? How in the hell?"

"Someone was clever. At least they don't have their gun anymore since they stashed it in that bathroom…" Greg trailed off as he looked back down at Sam, "And two that makes three that went there."

"So?"

Greg looked up at the simple question Warrick threw at him. This was not something he could process that quickly. He had been getting good at his job, getting the hand of things, but this was something he had yet to come across. Murder right under all their noses was something new to him. He didn't know what to really say.

"He was carried in here and dropped. This wasn't where was killed," Brass saved the day with his answers.

"Well, Natalie and Kevin are the only two that have been out of that room since Sam was. Possible Kevin did it?"

"Nah, not enough time from the point when I last saw him by the door and the lights went out to when we got here. Would have heard something."

"I dunno, Jim. We were all a little out of it in that blackout. Possible he moved quickly. Hell, Natalie could have helped him."

With a sigh, Brass motioned for Greg to head back out of the room. He was getting kind of edgy standing next to the kid while he was starring at them through cloudy glass. That was not his favorite thing about the dead. Everyone should die with their eyes closed.

Warrick moved aside to let them out, "Now what?"

"Now we look for two more kids. We have to lock the others in that room. No one else is allowed to leave."

"And how do you propose we pull that one off. Nick'll have our heads if we do it. Door's closed anyways from when I left," Warrick motioned to it, "And they have lights now to. Let's just try to find them before they can do anything else. At least they can't get out. Hole's too small for them."

"Alright, but we stick together. They have a knife at least on 'em. Don't want to try anything alone, no hero work."

Both CSI's nodded at the instructions from Brass. They didn't want to go running off on their own anyways. Without even mentioning another word, the three of them headed to the room directly across from them.

Brass took the lead, finally pulling out the piece he wore at his belt at all times. It leads the way into the room, the flashlight tight in the other hand. He swept them quickly around the room, noticing no people in the room. It was empty.

Another light moved past him as Warrick walked into the room. A large splash of blood was on the floor. "Seems we found the main scene. Betting he was killed in here and placed in the other room with the hopes we wouldn't notice."

"Then why wreck the generator?" Greg asked.

Warrick frowned, "You don't think they wanted this do you?"

"Could be trying to pull something. Maybe they think if they pull a stunt like this, then they can bust out of here. Don't know how though." Brass swept the room again. He didn't want to miss anything. Everything was important now.

"This room's clear. Let's check the next. We'll work the rest like this and find those little sons of bitches."

Greg hugged his arms to his chest as he stared at the blood even after the light from the flashlights was moving completely away. Two people had now been killed in these walls. Anything else could happen now. But he tried to think positive. They still had two guns, Brass' and Warrick's. Greg knew they had an edge, right?

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Nick hit the light on the table, but the damn thing still wouldn't work. He wasn't talking to Andrew since he knew the other man was technically on babysitting duty. Being injured, he was officially labeled the invalid and couldn't do anything anymore, but sit there and wait. He hated it.

"Still won't work," Andrew tried again. He shifted in the chair he had dragged over to the table. They were all still huddled around the still form of the music director. The man's skin was blue in the light, cold to the touch even though he was still breathing.

"Oh come on, man. Don't give me that childish crap Nick."

But the Texan still ignored his and started to twist the top off the light to play with the batteries. It was giving him something to do so he didn't snap and start to yell at the cop. Or leave the room and get into more trouble at that.

Andrew's light worked, but the beam was weak. It wouldn't last forever. These were old. There was no telling how long they had been kept in this room without any use. But it was light. It helped call all their nerves a little.

"Quit playing with that thing. Not gonna work."

"I'll do as I damn well please," Nick grumbled under his breath at the other man.

The door opening slowly held off any comment Andrew wished to make to the other man. His back was to the door, the light facing inward. Andrew started to turn around slowly.

Three rapid gunshots sounded through the room. It shook eardrums, rattled teeth. Nick's eyes went wide, facing the door. It happened so quickly. His hands reached down and he felt at his chest. There was no way he was going to trust that he wasn't hit.

But it was Andrew that fell forward. Pain creasing his forehead, filling his eyes. Nick saw the feminine smile as the light from the shots faded from his eyes. No pain, just a chilling cold.

TBC…


	13. Chapter 12: He won't do this again…

**Title: And the Thunder Rolls**

**By: duffshel**

**Author's Note: **Hey all! What's up? Hope everyone is still hanging in with me on this. Trying to keep it coming, keep it interesting for y'all. So yeah, really not much to say. Thanks as always. You guys always rock! Keep it coming. Helps me out with what else I should torture you with. See you guys sometime over the weekend with the next chapter. Go now. Check in on the guys! Bye!

**#12: He won't do this again…**

The second room had been a bust. Nothing was stirred at all inside, no mysterious blood pools anywhere. And no god-damned kids anywhere. Brass wanted to put a couple bullets into the wall to help with the anger he could feel building up. Not that many room left that they could get to. And he was sicker than hell of seeing them over and over. He would have to see this place every time he closed his eyes over the next week. Brass just had that feeling about it.

He stomped his way to that damn band room. This was the place where this all had to begin. If someone wasn't dumb and mean enough to shoot that poor girl, none of them would be in this situation. All the detective needed and wanted was that damn bottle he still kept in that drawer, though it had been collecting dust for some time. Age always helps the finest booze. It was common knowledge.

Brass threw those thoughts into the back of his mind and forced himself back into the here and now. It was his job to get everyone out of this in one piece. He already had two injured CSI's and now one more dead kid. Lots of paperwork was going to be needed when he returned to the station. His hands twitched into fists at that thought.

Shaky breaths were being drawn in behind him and Brass took a deep breath of his own. The kid was never in a situation like this. Yeah, he had been on a scene where there had been gunfire and blown up in a lab explosion, but Greg was still one of the more innocent ones. Wouldn't be right to blow up at him for being twitchy in a situation like this. But, then again, he wouldn't be Jim Brass if he didn't.

"Wanna calm down there, Sanders."

He really hadn't meant for it to come out so rough. It was just his nature to sound tough and hard. Even when he was trying hard to not be. But the kid still answered him.

"Sorry. Just hoping this is all over soon."

Warrick nodded his head as he kept step with the younger CSI, "Hear ya on that one, man. Those damn kids better be in this room. Sick of walking around this place."

Both beams of light shined upon the door as if it were a place for all religious answers. Shadows danced across the dreaded wood. Greg could swear if he looked long and hard enough, the blood lost inside the room would start to run down from the top to create a sea of terror at the bottom. He gulped and took a small step closer to the other two men.

"Well, let's stop yakking out here like a couple of school girls," Brass huffed as he opened another door, to another room in the same hell.

His arm jerked from his body to throw light into the darkness, Warrick's right with him. The three men took large, yet silent steps inward. Even though they could only see a few feet in front of their eyes where the light didn't penetrate, they kept starring hard into the darkness as if it was enough to lift it.

Greg gasped and reached out for Warrick's arm, pulling to in the direction he wanted, "Over here!"

Her skin was pale in the light. Some areas were tinged a sweetly pink color, bathed in soft shades of blood. Darkness swallowed her hands and feet from their wide spread angles. Greg bit his tongue to hold in the gag as he looked over Natalie's dead body.

It was a fresh kill. Brass' mind raced as he moved his body forward. His gun felt heavier in his hand as he moved, ready to use it. He searched for Kevin all around the area. No one else was there. But there was no way the boy slipped past them.

"He's still here."

Warrick nodded he head as he moved his flashlight around, trying to reach into all the corners and dark spaces. His movements were not smooth, but he would worry about being Mr. Cool at some other time. Now it was time for panic and uncertainty. No one would judge and call names.

But he tensed as he was about to pass over the stupid truck once again. The boy suddenly seemed taller, stronger. Of course, now he had a gun in one hand, a red, dripping knife in the other. Warrick faltered a little, not quite sure what to do.

"Drop it! Throw it away, Kevin."

The shouted command from the CSI caused Brass to focus and send his light out to aid. Pinned with both lights, the boy's smile simply grew, eyes crazy with some sort of lust. The gun didn't even shake, the knife rose a little. It was two guns against one, yet the kid wasn't letting down.

Brass growled, "Drop it. Hands where I c'n see 'em."

Kevin shook his head, body shaking with mirth, "Sorry, but can't do it. You got in the way. Everyone. Should have just let the girl lie, die."

"What? You shot Kayla? Why?" Greg couldn't hold his tongue as thoughts raced. This kid had seemed so unlikely. Quiet, shy almost.

The boy raised his gun, making a sharp gesture to the ground with it. He wanted them to lose their weapons. It seemed ludicrous that he would have the nerve to order a detective and a CSI to drop their guns in such a situation. But here he was, still smiling away.

"No need for stupid answers to such stupid questions. If you wish to live a little longer, it would be best if you lost your guns."

"Yeah, like that's going to happen," Warrick said as he took a step forward, rubble crunching under his boots, "Seems like your out numbered."

If possible, the smile grew even more, "Oh really."

Brass could feel his heart stop beating when the gun was locked behind him. Keeping his gun and out in front of him, he shifted the light enough to see the girl behind him. He shouted through his conscious about not checking over the girl. She had appeared dead, but now she looked very much alive. Still covered in blood, but very much alive.

"Wha' the fuck?" Warrick cursed out in a rush of air.

Pale cheeks crinkled into rows of pale pink and white wash as Natalie smiled, "Drama club."

Breathing became difficult as Greg's panic gripped him. It seemed like his throat was closing up, chocking off all air. They were stuck between two grinning fools, with guns. And he really wanted to know how they got those damn things in this place.

"Would seem you three aren't in a good situation any longer. We prepared for such things, but never dreamed it would all turn out like this," Natalie spoke softly though her voice seemed to stretch to fill the entire room.

Sharing a look with Brass, Warrick began to slowly lower his gun. They were in the middle. It was where the crosshairs met. If they played this right, they could get the upper hand again and make it out of this alive.

Kevin walked boldly over to Warrick and ripped the drooping weapon from the slack hands. He reached around and put it in the band of his pants like he had seen all the cops do it in the movies. It was a powerful feeling one he could get used to. The teenager watched Natalie do the same thing with the burly cop.

"Now, no one do anything stupid. Hate to have to do something bad," his smirk was clear in the odd lighting thrown by the flashlights.

Brass' face went blank as he stared down the kid, "And how do you thing you're even in charge here? Huh?"

"We have the guns, the upper hand." Her voice dripped like sweet honey, still swarming with bees. Natalie moved a few steps closer to her partner in crime. The movements of her body were graceful, smooth. She wasn't afraid of anything while doing this.

"But we're not the only ones," Greg tried his hardest not to let his voice crack, though he was only so successful, "We have friends in the other room."

"Maybe."

The shrug was so casual. It was if they were talking about what color the sky was or something as meaningless and yet so profound. Warrick couldn't get his head around this situation. Lots of shit had hit the fans over the last couple of years, but this was not something he was coded for. Teenagers going crazy in a destroyed school with a suddenly large arsenal. Nothing came up.

"Or maybe not."

It was like a cue. She had mentioned a drama club. All this was a big play. There were acts, stages, and scenes that had to be run through. They had seen the music fall apart, crash in a large bang of percussion and winds. Not the actually drama was coming into affect. Greek poets couldn't have been more pleased with this tragedy playing out.

Three rapid shots rang through the door behind the three men. Warrick almost chocked on the breath he sucked into his lungs. Burning sensations ran up and down his spine, paralyzing him with a gaping look on his face. Only his eyes moved around, trying to gain control.

Greg's cry of alarm was soft and wispy. Both his hands formed tight fists. All that he could comprehend were the guns starring him down and the ringing of bullets singing in his ears. It was painful and yet comprehension was clear. They were all going to die.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

The drive was much too slow. It was supposed to only take a grand total of seven minutes to get from the station to the school. Here they were, stuck in the middle of some intersections, ticking away to twelve minutes. Grissom prided himself on being a patient man, but even he had his limits.

Sheriff Baker didn't bothering looking in the rear view mirror knowing what kind of expressions he was be getting from the two CSI's. The rushes of sarcastic breaths from the blonde were enough to tell him these delays were not appreciated in the slightest. But he kept himself from yelling at them that this was a disaster zone now and shit was going to get in the way.

His hands were tight on the steering wheel as he approached the new road. He was supposed to turn right. It would lead him to the school. This was the direct route. But it was blocked by destruction. A few cars were now barricades. Several trees were closed off draw bridges. He turned to Officer Duncan and sighed.

"Another way?"

"I don't know. We would have to go up and around then. Add another ten minutes if the roads are any better. Seems to be the center of the damage. School must be trashed."

Catherine leaned forward so she could interrupt the conversation, "You mean no one has been down this way yet? No one has seen the school?"

"First step in the procedure is to search and rescue yes, but we also needed to control any fires going on around. There were at least three that I know about. And my guys have been picking up people wandering around on the streets. Indoor searching comes next, but it will be a long process. Places like the school, which are supposed to be empty, will be last on that list."

It was not an answer either wanted. Grissom kept his eyes out the window, searching for anything. And something was catching his attention. He couldn't tell what it was, but it didn't look like any tree that he had ever seen. His hand was reaching for the door handle before he could stop it.

The car was still moving when his feet hit the ground. Grissom's balance was thrown slightly, but he managed to move forward without falling on his face. Shouts came from the car, the squealing of breaks as the car was stopped.

"Gil, wait!" Catherine bolted through the open door right behind her friend, "What're you doing?"

He kept his face crisp and professional, "Something's not right here."

Catherine shook her head at the vague response, but didn't bother to stop the man from walking forward. Realizing they had no lights, she darted back to the car and shuffled through the kit bags they had brought with them, just in case. Both flashlights were near the top and she was right after Grissom once she had them.

"Hey, wait up. You're going to need this."

"Thanks. Didn't think about that."

"It's alright. I'll make sure Ecklie doesn't hear about it."

It was enough to quirk his lips a little, but Grissom turned his attention back to the road he wanted to follow. He could hear the squawking of the police radio behind him, Sheriff Baker shouting off orders. But there wasn't any word for him to stop, not to move.

He walked right to the spot that demanded his attention. Seeing enough dead bodies in his life, Grissom was sadly disgusted to know he could identify one from a good distance away. Even one so small, so innocent.

"Oh god," Catherine stopped at his side, her hand rushing to her mouth. The girl was lying face down. Her hair and clothes were damp. She had been out in the rain, in the storm.

Grissom crouched down on the girl's left side and let his eyes roam up and down her still body. She had been walking when attacked from behind. There were two bloody wounds in the upper back of her jacket. He couldn't be sure of what it was right then, but it had been deep enough to kill this girl.

Hair rested over the pale lips, closed eyes. Catherine covered her fingers with her CSI jacket and brushed the strands away. No matter how many times she told herself this wasn't her daughter, she always had to check anyways. People could call her paranoid, but she would never care. The look of shock was clear on the delicate brow.

"Seems odd for a girl this age to be wondering around on the streets," Grissom commented mostly to himself. He looked up and waved at Duncan who was watching the two from the passenger door. The cop immediately jogged over, jumping over obstacles.

"We need a paramedic unit here now. If possible this area needs to be taped off. Get in touch with my lab and have a coroner sent. Let no one move the body until this is dealt with."

"Why the paramedics then?"

Catherine sniffled, "Just procedure. Need them to check the stats and declare the death. Could cause some trouble in court." Her own voice sounded odd. She sounded like Grissom. But she would let it slide this once. Only once.

The officer nodded his head and turned to leave before he hesitated and turned back, "I'll contact her parents as well."

Looking away from his searching, Grissom asked the question with his eyes. He wanted to work this scene as it was most defiantly one. It was clear the weapon used was something man made. A tree limb or rock shatter wouldn't look like this.

"It's little Sue Kenneth. I play ball with her father. He's going to be devastated."

A deep, painful sigh left Catherine's lips as she looked down on little Sue's cold, dead face. Anger welled through her as she thought about the monster that could do this. She stopped her chilled fingers from brushing across the once rosy cheek. The rain had taken most of the evidence away, but she would be damned to help the lost cause.

"Now what?"

"Have them hold this area off. We need to get to that school. I've a bad feeling about all of this."

Grissom waited only seconds longer to relay his instructions to a confused Sheriff. He asked for walking directions from that point to the school. Then he returned to the squad car for their weapons. Catherine didn't say a word, only nodded. They were off.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

"What the fuck? I thought you knew how to aim that damn thing," a voice choked out in the mess of all things.

Nick barely had time to register who it belonged to as Andrew continued to slump forward. His arms went flying out to catch the man before he would be able to fall from the chair. The cop's intake of air was rough, thick. Nick couldn't tell in the light where Andrew had been hit, but it didn't sound good.

Derek jumped to his feet and pushed the dead body of Kyle away from his with his foot. The kid had taken the bullet cleaning in the front of his chest. Shock was evident on his face, parting remnants of pain. Shooting was so quick and simple.

"Oh please. Make me take out two people before this and all you can do is bitch," Amber pouted out her lip, in complete contrast to the anger in her voice, "It was cold and wet out there. And I think I cut myself trying to get back in here. So leave it."

The teenage boy stalked over to stand right in front of the girl. He had a good height advantage on the once delicate girl. Nick could feel his gag reflex giving in at how he felt he needed to help her, protect her from any and all danger. Now she was the one he needed to protect himself from. Trembling started in his legs, slowing eating its way up his body. But he fought to keep his arms still. Andrew was moaning from enough pain as it was.

"Yeah, so prissy gets a little wet. You're worst than a damn poodle. And the fact is, you still missed one. You were supposed to take them all out. Now," Derek threw his hand back, palm upright, "You left one still kicking."

Amber snorted and pulled the gun casually towards her body, "Oh please. I was sitting in this room as well as you. Dude's injured. What's he gonna do? Huh?"

"Whatever. Where's the other one?"

Nick dragged his attention of the bickering students and started to lower Andrew to the ground. In his sitting position, he was having trouble supporting the man's weight. Andrew squirmed away as he was placed on his back, his full weight on the wounds.

"Sorry, man," Nick could have kicked himself for being so stupid and doing that. He pulled on Andrew's shoulder and helped the man rest on his side. His right arm was twisted up under his head, hand in a tight fist.

"What happened?"

It was a drained whisper. As if someone had pulled the plug on the tub of life holding Andrew to the world, the man was fading away. Nick could see his eyes dulling, movements slow and hard. Something caught in his chest, but he swallowed it down, pushing it into his gut. Leaning forward, he looked the best he could for the wounds.

There were two of them. Seemingly so small, so simple. It had never ceased to amaze the Texan on how easily something so dull looking as a bullet could steal a life so easily. It was cruel and pointless. But these two were working their dark magic, pulling life away from a good friend.

"Just hand on, Andy. Ya got a little bit of buckshot."

He tried to keep it calm, not depressing. The look on Andrew's face proved to show the man wasn't stupid or slow. Andrew was a cop. He had seen plenty of other cops die from such things. No amount of joking or distracting was going to make him forget now.

"Who?"

Nick looked over his shoulder. Derek now held a gun in his hands. Where it had come from, Nick didn't know. It was the look in Amber's eyes that scared him the most though. Her green eyes were lit up by the red wisps framing her face. All the shakes and insecurities were gone. Nick's body ceased up, clamping down on the air he was pulling in too quickly.

"He dead?"

The young girl threw the question out, no care. Well, enough care to the point that they should only have one more live guy in the room with them. Two would be nearly impossible to deal with. Amber shivered in glee at how things were working out.

Nick turned questioning, brown eyes up at the two grinning faces, "Why?"

Amber waved an impatient hand at that, "Oh please cop man. You really got all caught up in my little act, huh? Here I thought cops had some sort of brains in them. Guess I was wrong. There is only one why in this place."

She sounded older than should be legal. Andrew fought to keep his eyes open, pain flaring through every fiber of his being. If he had the energy to comment, he would tell the CSI he know had a slight understanding at how Nick must feel half the time in shit like this. He hurt like hell. And he could feel the blood running like ghost's fingers across his spine.

"She had to go," Amber rested the hand with the gun on her hip, "Girl just was in the way and a pain in the ass."

"You mean Kayla? You killed her?" Nick frowned, dimples forming slightly from his pursed lips.

"Yeah, I lost the game. We pulled cards out. Lowest one uses the gun. So, here I am. Lost on a simple game of chance."

Nick was swallowed up by the words. He was sure something was showing on his face, thankful for the bad lightening from the bad flashlight. In his own game of chance, a flip of a coin, he had lost. But he had lived to see a new day. Kayla lost her life due to a card. A low card.

"And it wasn't really as hard as you'd think to do. Schools really aren't set up for watching all the students. We all brought in a gun and knife apiece. Nothing."

Her small shoulders shrugged. Amber felt bored with all this talking. She wanted to know if the cop was going to die or not. Her steps were smooth, graceful as ever. Nick's eyes followed her, but he was trapped in his own pain and confusion.

Amber crouched down, squinting her eyes, "Not dead yet, but soon."

"You said all of you had guns. Who else is there?"

Nick wanted to push her away, not let her anywhere near the injured cop. He watched, stock still, as the small hand reached out and gently pressed against the flap of the shirt underneath the top most bullet wound. A rolling started in his stomach as he watched those white teeth shine again. His teeth clenched together as he fought back on it.

"Don't touch him!" he snarled, pulling Andrew away from her slightly. A moan startled him, guilt causing the bile to rise into his throat.

"So touchy," Amber smiled bigger, "Going to die, but still so touchy. And don't forget that fact. You are going to die. None of us care about you. It's not even our fault you all are here."

"What're you talking about?"

Amber shushed him, "Not now. We've only to wait a little longer."

The CSI wanted to demand information. He wanted to grab her shoulders and shake her until her head rattled on her neck. Shuffled footsteps sounded from out in the hall. His heart fell lower than the soles of his shoes. Tearing his eyes away from the tiny scene in front of him, he watched his friends ushered into the room at gunpoint.

Four guns. Four teenagers. One injured cop, two bullet wounds. One injured CSI, hole from a damn brick. And lots of hell to pay.

Nick could feel his stomach twist up again. It made his eyes water. He dropped them and threw out a small plea to whoever might be listening. This wasn't how he wanted to die. But, did he have anymore luck to get them all out of this, still breathing?

TBC…


	14. Chapter 13: Cause tonight will be

**Title: And the Thunder Rolls**

**By: duffshel**

**Author's Note: **I tried to update this all damn weekend! Just was able to do it now. Wanted this up Sat. afternoon, but NO! Arggg...Never had so much trouble before. Going to be wrapping this up soon. Few more things to do with it, but this was never meant to be a long one. Besides, I have to start working on that sequel. So, hope no one is too disappointed. This is going over better than I could have hoped for, but everything must come to an end. Thanks as always to everyone. And let me know what ya think. Always makes my day to hear from readers. See everyone soon!

**#13: Cause tonight will be the last time… **

Warrick's eyes immediately sought out his friend. It appeared that Nick wasn't any worse, but Andy didn't look good at all. He started to take a step forward for their stopped position, but a cluck of a tongue stopped him.

"Hey, hey now. No more walking," Kevin smirked as he walked to stand next to the taller man, "Your precious friends are just fine. Not dead, yet."

"Then step aside, kid."

Derek sighed and marched over to the new group to the room, "Just shut up. Get them all together. It'll be easier to hold this together."

"Oh, so now you're in charge here? Since when, dude?"

"You two shut up," Natalie barked out, waving her gun in the air, "Just shut up. God. What is with boys! I swear."

"Oh yeah, like chicks are all that much better. Shit, we'd never have gotten this far on just the two of you."

There was a jab of a barrel in Greg's back. It forced him to walk forward. But his own anxiety had him moving quickly, dropping to his knees next to Nick. He ignored the bickering from the four teenagers in the room.

"How is he?"

Nick could barely hear the words over the louder ones being tossed around elsewhere. He closed his eyes, needing a moment to collect himself. Something was being torn open inside of him, but he wasn't man enough to let it open. It would be kept in, bottled, and shaken at a later date.

A gasp for air, a pull for a voice, "I'll be fine. Just need a drink."

"Sure Andy. I'll buy the first round," Warrick tried to keep his voice calm as he moved close enough to see what had happened to the cop.

Brass was the only one not sharing jabs and comments with the others. He didn't want to take his eyes of the kids for any amount of time. They were still arguing with each other. There were plenty of questions, and now he wanted a hell of a lot of answers. He would let the other men chat and catch their breath a little. His ears were forward.

"_So, you couldn't kill them all. What the hell. We should'a went in a different direction."_

"_Oh yeah, like this was planned. Shit, we went with the wind here."_

"_And look where it got us. A bunch of damn cops."_

"_Hey, you didn't watch the weather either. How the hell?"_

"_Someone should have checked on this."_

"_Yeah, I can just see it. Gun, check. Knife, check. Doppler equipment, oops. Fuck off, man."_

"_So now what?"_

"_We have to kill them. All of them. Anymore bullets?"_

"_Yeah…but they're cops."_

"_And they know everything."_

"_Not everything, but enough. Shit, they have our damn prints."_

"_Nah, destroyed in the storm. Just names and images of our faces. We could do it."_

"_You first."_

These were rushed and whispered words, but the detective picked up on every one of them. None of the kids had what seemed to be a solid plan anymore. Every one of them was trying to gain the upper hand on the others. Something might be able to make them crack. Brass was willing to try.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Andrew was swimming in a sea of blues, reds, and yellows. It all hurt his eyes and he had to squint against the colors. The waves lifted him, moving him around as if he was nothing more than a feather. It was liberating. He could feel his entire being yearn for it.

Something was up with his back though. With every move he tried to make, there was a pull, a stretch. There really wasn't any way to describe it. He had never felt anything like it. But when he tried to reach his hands back to touch the area, the limbs would be suddenly sucked under the water. It was safer not to try.

Voices were on the wind, but he couldn't figure out who would be in the middle of nowhere with him. It was illogical when there wasn't a single piece of land or a boat. No, he was completely alone. The voices weren't human. Andrew leaned his head back, only birds would be here.

It was warm and cold all at the same time. Parts of his body felt like it was on fire, others as if he were put on ice. The more he fought against everything, anything, the more the feeling intensified. Unpleasant and unexpected. All he could remember of swimming before was calm and weightlessness.

Here, there were too many things happening. He felt relaxed, but yet in so much pain. The colors became brighter, pounding through his skull. Something was poking into his hip. With a quick stroke, he pushed his body into another direction.

Immediately he was taken into a new swell, thrown around like a rag doll. Pain radiated through his body, starting in his back. His mouth opened in a scream, no sound allowed past his lips. It was pulled right out of existence, into nothingness.

But then things calmed down once again. Heat and freeze were back. It was all he could wrap his mind around anymore. And those voices, they were back.

Faces began to pop up in different areas of the purple sky. He knew those people. They were his friends. It was calming to see people he cared so much about around him in a time like this. The water lapped at his shoulders and neck almost like a lover's caress. Andrew leaned his head back a little more.

Suddenly different faces showed up. These were not friendly. They sneered, laughed, tortured. He seized up, tensing at the sudden images. Young faces, blocked out at times from flying bricks, trees. It was confusing.

Once again, he tried to scream out his pain, his confusion. Something touched him, rested on his arm. It wasn't wet or fluid. Solid and strong. Flesh. Blackness hit him full force. He lost to the darkness.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

"Come on Andy, stay with us," Nick leaned forward to chant at the man.

He could feel the body tremble underneath his hands. Andrew's mouth moved, but no words came out. The cop was fighting the pain, lost in a world that could only make sense to another person in the same amount of pain.

Nick had been there once upon a time.

He shook his head and took his thoughts from those. This was not a time to get lost in the past, in old pains. Nick had to be here for his friends. There would be plenty of time to kick his own ass later. He placed a strong grip on Andrew's arm so the man would know he wasn't alone. Nick could feel the body relax into unconsciousness.

Greg's wide eyes jumped to his as the younger man watched Andrew's head roll completely. The lean body was tense. The former lab rat was in complete survival mode, ready to jump up and flee in a moment's notice.

"He okay?" Warrick asked as if afraid to curse the man into death.

"Just passed out. Probably better. Less pain."

"But he's gonna live," Greg shifted his weight, "Right?"

Both the older CSI's exchanged a look with each other. They knew what might happen, would most likely could happen. Warrick had been watching the kids as well this entire time. Granted he hadn't listened as well as Brass currently was, but he had a gist of what was going on. These kids wanted them all dead now.

Neither managed a word before the kids decided they had enough time to reconnect. Derek marched over, steps loud. The gun in his hand was forward, pointing straight at Nick's head. In fact, a gun was trained on each of the four.

"Al'ight. Leave the cop on the floor. Everyone in chairs, hands on your knees. And no tricks."

He sounded like he had read a movie script. Brass snorted under his breath at the command the kid tried to pull off. No one talked like that. In events like this, professionals wouldn't have let them live past five minutes ago. This mess had thrown the kids for a loop.

"Move!"

The order was bellowed, making Nick's ear ring slightly. With as much care as he could managed, he arranged Andrew on the floor in order not to pull at the wounds on his back too much. He listened to the sound of scrapping chairs and realized one had been placed closer to him. By looking at the shoes, he had Warrick to thank for that.

He frowned to himself at that. The other man was always willing to care for him, help him out. Nick just pushed him too far away. After thinking long and hard over their fight, he knew he had completely stupid and out of line. It was just a blind date. Not everyone out there was crazy.

A tiny voice cracked up at that thought and he was suddenly assaulted by high pitch laughter. He could almost see the tiny person rolling around on the ground, clutching at their stomach as the pain from the diaphragm ran through the tiny body. Nick shook his head trying to dislodge the intruder, but knew from experience, that voice was there to stay. It was part of him now. Sadly, it was almost a comfort on some days. But he could still make up with Warrick. No need for this pettiness between them.

Thought right now, he had to concentrate more on getting up off the floor and into the chair. He shifted his weight and groaned as every muscle seemed to pull in a different direction. The cut felt wet and hot again. Adhesive from the tape pulled at the tiny hairs on his stomach. His ribs shifted and tightened against tired lungs. A dark. lean hand appeared in his line of vision.

"Here. Let me help," Warrick kept his voice soft, clear of all emotions. He just wanted to help his pained friend out. From the fact that Nick's face dropped all color in the matter of milliseconds, he knew there was no way in hell the other man was getting himself into that chair, especially not from the great distance the floor offered. Nick had forgotten all about his own pain in the adrenaline rush of everything. It was clear as day to Warrick.

Nick wanted to push the hand away, keep going on his own. He bit the inside of his cheek at these thoughts. The teeth pushed in hard enough to create a new rush of pain into his already overloaded system. But it also forced him to reach up for the extra help. It was a beginning to offering an apology for being such an ass.

As he was gently pulled to his feet, Nick could see Amber moving closer from the corner of his vision. He wanted to yell at her, tell her to go away. But then he saw the gun and remembered he didn't have his. Chills ran through his entire being, centered at the body hole in his hip. He had these before, when she was leaving through that hole. Women are always told to trust their gut feelings. Well, guys should learn to trust their chills. Nick shook his head again, bangs flapping against his forehead.

The chair was closer than he had thought. All he had to do was shift a little to the right and there it was. In another time he would chide Warrick for not thinking he could move even a couple of feet. But his body was glad for the back support once his weight was settled. He smiled his thanks to his partner.

Warrick nodded and sat in the chair he had moved close to Nick's. He placed his hands palms down on his knees and looked at the other two men. It was easier to ignore the sweat collecting on the thick skin of his fingers and palms with them pressed into his pants.

In almost a straight row, Greg was the closest to Warrick, just to his right. He could see the shakes and jerks as Greg fought his hardest to keep his cool. The taller CSI only hoped that it was to fool the kids, not him or Nick. Greg didn't have to prove anything to either of them.

Brass was about a foot away from Greg, turned in a little bit. His face was set in hard lines, shifting only slightly as his eyes studied everything going on around them. And there was plenty of that to do.

The kids seemed at ease more now that they had the adults in positions where they could watch them better. Each one picked out someone to guard it seemed. While most of the guns were held casually, Amber held hers true. Nick was getting really sick of looking down the barrel. Well, it was better than that toothy grin.

Being the closest to the two injured men now, she moved a little to peer down at them. It seemed that somewhere along this little trip, the music director gave up. His chest was still, skin a nice shade of gray. No threat left with that one. One plus in the scheme of things.

But the cop was still breathing, moving every now and then. Soft gasps and groans escaped his lips. Amber nudged him with her foot, but the only movement was from the force of her kick. His body fell back into position. Eyes didn't even flutter.

"Hey, leave him alone!"

Green eyes rolled over to meet angry brown ones. Nick was startled to see how alike they were to Warrick's. The shades were similar, but then he saw the differences. Never before and never in the future would he see such insanity or lust in Warrick's eyes. That chill was on the move, tiny spiders weaving their web across his skin. Coats of white strands kept him locked in this world.

"Now, you're in no position to say a thing, sugar. Besides, not a point to trying to protect him any longer."

Warrick growled, his fingers grabbing up bits of pant cloth as they tightened into fists, "Oh yeah. And why's that?"

"Cause you're going to die," Natalie huffed, "Why can't you fools get that through your thick skulls? I mean, come on!"

"Well, since you're so willing to kill us, you can answered a couple of questions then for me. Why Kayla? What was the point of that?"

The way the four suddenly looked at Brass, as if the man had spouted green hair and tentacles, would have been hilarious in another time, another place. Now all Greg wanted to do was kick the older man in the shin to attempt to get Brass to shut up and stop pissing the kids off. But from the tight lines in that face, Greg knew it would be pointless in the moment and a signature on his death certificate.

"What difference does it make?" Natalie's voice rose an octave. "She's dead. Nothing more too it. Your dead doctor will take her apart and figure it all out anyways. I watch T.V. I've seen _Law and Order_, thank you very much."

Brass let out a sly grin, "Just curious. Personally, I've never seen that show and don't know what our dead doctor will be able to tell us. Dead people can only talk so much. You guys are so much better with words. Could clear it all up for us right here and now."

Kevin started to shake his head. The boy was getting agitated by something. What it was, Warrick couldn't figure out. He glanced at Nick, question marks all over his face, but his friend only answered with slanted, wide eyes. The boy started to open his mouth, trying to get words out.

"Wha…what would we have…what do you want to know?"

"Simply how the four of you came together and why you killed Kayla. Doesn't seem that big of a deal to be in the same band as someone. Not a good reason to shot them from behind."

Their feet shuffled, guns moved a little. Amber kept strong on hers as always. It only moved from Nick's right eye to his left, not up or down. That girl was going to shot his in the face no matter what happened it appeared.

It was Derek that jumped forward, like he had when Brass and Greg had first questioned the kids back those so many moments ago, right in this room. "Why is it that kids can never seem to plan anything, follow through on anything in the minds and eyes of adults? It was worked through and we had everything down. But then the weather and you fucked it all up."

"Still doesn't explain why a girl died today?" Nick kept his voice soft, trying not to startle anyone by loud noises.

Amber's face went red and she darted out for one of the flashlights laying on the floor, "She was a bitch! I hated her. She stole my boyfriend!"

The light flared up underneath her face. It appeared to Nick that she wanted to turn this into some haunting story. Her youth was seeping in and taking everything away she was trying to pull. These were just kids. Nothing was going to take that away. They were kids that killed another kid.

"All this for a boyfriend?" Warrick was dumbfounded. He had seen plenty of shit go down over a date, but these kids were too young to even think seriously about something like that.

It was Nick that got slammed across the cheek by the butt of a gun. Amber screamed as she swung. Nick groaned as his head was snapped on his spine. The dead percussion from the other room had now taken up residence inside his head. Copper trickled in to tease his tongue.

"Just was a boyfriend! You don't get it! No one does! No one ever will."

The outburst from Amber seemed to scare the others a little, though not nearly as much as it did the adults in the room. Derek and Kevin shifted closer together, Natalie moved a step backwards. The red headed girl was panting heavily, shoulders heaving. Now the gun was pointed at Nick's chest.

Brass smoothed his hands out on his thighs, "Why the four of you?"

Coughing erupted from Kevin, though it was fake to his own ears as everyone else's, "I was surfing the web one day, typing in random searches. Don't even remember what I put down, but a shit load of sights came up. Hers," he tossed his head at Amber, "came up, third from the top. She had detailed what she wanted and wanted help."

"So you knew she wanted to kill someone and you helped?" Greg almost jumped out of his chair at the admission. There was a fire going on underneath his chair and the flames were licking the back of his knees now. He wanted out. But he really wanted to hear more.

"Yeah, ya know. Gets boring around here."

It went silent for a few moments. Boredom was again blamed for the troubles raining down on the world. With all the crap kids had now a days, Brass just couldn't understand how in the hell they could be bored. He had much less when he was their age and did just fine.

"You two?"

Derek shrugged, "I'm her cousin. She asked for shooting help. I knew the girl. Seemed interesting enough."

"It was my idea for the cards," Natalie spoke up, "None of us could decide who would do it. I got my card deck and we chose that way. Highest card planted the dummy gun."

All four heads shot up, though Nick regretted it immediately. The gun they had found in the bathroom was a plant. It seemed these kids were watching more than law shows on television. They had gotten into some scary material somewhere.

"It was to throw the cops off. We get away. Water kills the prints, any clues. No one can point at us. We just happened to be in the room. Killer ran out and away." Natalie's voice was calm and even. It seemed that she had practiced this speech prior to this day. Probably in the bathroom mirror with a brush, like accepting an Oscar.

"Why didn't any residue show up? On any of you?" Greg asked.

Amber shook her head, "I changed my jacket. Wore my gloves. Not that hard to think of. Plenty of websites out there about what happens as you shot a gun. And what to watch out for."

Their case was officially a joke. Nick could feel the laughter and sneers they would get when they got back to the lab. '_Well, if they ever did anyways_.' Here they had been beaten by a group of kids with knowledge from the web and crime shows. And, it worked.

"Alright. We talked enough. Now, since the weather had to go and mess things up, we've got a problem left in the form of you," Amber smirked as she leveled her gun at Nick's nose. "Never thought to plan for being trapped inside with tornadoes rushing around outside. I will not be arrested for taking out the trash."

She looked over her shoulder and nodded at someone. From his angle, Warrick couldn't tell with whom she was communicating with. The flashlights were all scooped up into the young hands. Extra ones were turned off. It was dim and deafening in that room.

"Alright. Let's do this. Make it quick. We have to get the hell out of here."

Derek frowned at Natalie, "And how the hell are we gonna do that? We can't fit through that damn hole."

"Just shut up," Amber snapped again, "We'll worry about that in a moment."

The guns were all aimed, ready to fire. Greg could feel the sweat running down his spine, pooling at the waistband of his pants. His skin itched, his breath hitched. Derek only could smile at his terror. He missed what Greg could see. That flash of movement no one was paying any attention to. His heart leapt with hope at this discovery. He had to bit his lower lip from shouting out that name.

Amber went down suddenly, unexpectedly. Flashlight went out, hit the floor.. Shouts echoed through the room, guns fired repeatedly. Beams of light danced around, following rains of death. Bullets flew throughout the room with no clear direction anymore. Chairs skidded, knees thudded. Plastic clattered. Heavy breathing filled the room. Pain filled moans sounded as hands reached for bloody wounds. Some were deep, others weren't. Three were missing all together.

A single beam was all the remained in the room. It pointed towards the door. Brass' sturdy hand groped for it, managing to hook it with one finger. His body hurt from his drop to the floor, but there weren't any bullet holes that he could feel in his person.

He lifted the light and moved it around back towards where he knew everyone had been. It froze in place as his brain accepted what he was seeing. There had been a lot of rounds popped off, but from what he was witness to, there might as well have been a machine gun in the room. Bile rose in his throat, eyes welled up with dampness. He pushed it down and fought to keep a clear head.

People were lying in pools of blood. He couldn't see any movement. Brass was the only one sitting up. Someone was dead, dying. He just didn't want to look to see who. It had happened so quick.

TBC…


	15. Chapter 14: Deep in her heart…

**Title: And the Thunder Rolls**

**By: duffshel**

**Author's Note: **Well, it's coming to an end. Almost there. But seems to me that everyone needs a break after what happened last chapter. Too bad I just didn't see to get the message. Always good to throw something new in, right! Well, read on and let me know. So yeah, should be done over the weekend. Just not a whole lot more I can think to do with it. Alright, I'm done. Go on, have fun, and keep your hands and feet inside the cart at all times. Bye!

**#14: Deep in her heart… **

It had seemed like the world had come to an end. The storm earlier was nothing compared to this. Greg wasn't even sure if he was still alive or not. Somewhere there had to be several bullets embedded in his flesh. Enough had been shot off around him.

There was only one source of light in the room now. It was moving around slowly, a tremble evident. Whatever it was that moved it, Greg wanted it to stop. His head hurt enough as it was. Throwing up a hand, he groaned. The light centered right on his face.

"Greg? That you?"

He knew that voice anywhere. It had been in his life solidly over the past years. Greg had always been a little imitated by Jim Brass, but now, never so fond of that man. Tears welled up in his eyes. As well as a strong desire to rush over and hug the life out of that man.

"You okay, kid?"

But it appeared his voice wouldn't work to form words. Greg was sure his mouth was open, tongue moving, but only unarticulated words were emitted. A few of the tears he had been fighting spilled over to rush over his cheekbones. He planted his hands on the ground and made to move upright. Greg fell back down with a cry. There was something wrong with his leg.

Brass was suddenly closer to him, a sturdy hand on his shoulder, "Hey, just hang in there Greg. Let me take a look."

The flashlight moved down Greg's body. There was a large spot of blood expanding from a hole in Greg's leg. He had been shot in the mess of things. Now that the CSI took the time to assess everything and calm himself a bit, Greg could feel the pain building through his body.

"Hey, don't move too much Greg. Have to take a closer look at that."

"Where's everyone else? Did you see what Andy did?" Greg mumbled as he wiped at his cheeks.

"Yeah, kid. He did good. Saved us by doing that. I'm going to have to write that in his file when we get back to Vegas."

The light lifted from the bloody mess and Brass swung it outward trying to locate another person. He swept over two smaller, younger bodies. Kevin and Derek were down and seemingly out for the count. But Brass wasn't about to make a second mistake, like he had in the band room. He shared a quick look with Greg and made his way slowly over to the two boys.

Kevin was on his back, head twisted back in an odd angle. He took two of the bullets as his own. From what Brass could tell, this probably hadn't been too much of an accident. The bullets were placed in his chest and stomach.

As for Derek, he was laying on his side. His left arm was wrapped up behind his back. There wasn't much of his face left. None of the blood where his nose had been was bubbling up in the light beam. Both were dead.

The detective turned back to where he had left the younger man only to be met with a beam of light of his own. Greg had scrambled around his feet and came up with one of the flashlight lost in the sudden eruption the kids had caused. It made the former lab rat feel safer in his own skin.

"They dead?" He flicked his wrist to throw the beam onto the two teenagers. Brass nodded his head and Greg released part of the breath he had been holding. Now, he swallowed and gained enough courage to turn to find the other people in the room. He didn't have to look far.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Warrick's head hurt. It really hurt. This wasn't one of those headaches that just shows up like an eerie aunt. No, this one had taken up residence inside the bones of his skull. And it was dark.

He slowly lifted his head from where it decided to have a butting contest with the floor. From the wetness running around in the lines of his frown, the floor had taken his number to the bank. There was some movement to his side, but he was too busy trying to keep his stomach from revolting. Of course, throwing up on that floor was sort of like justice.

There were hissing whispers in the room. Sounded like two people. Who those two people would be, he didn't have the slightest idea. His body hurt too much to think about such unimportant matters as to who in their right mind would be whispering right now anyways.

Relenting to losing another battle, Warrick rolled slightly so he was flatter on his back. The tiles were cold and it seeped in through his shirt. Small shivers raked his body as the chill settled in more and more. Pains erupted from different locations of his person. Some were old, from that annoying room across the hall. But there seemed to be two new ones involved now.

Choking back a groan, Warrick cleared his thoughts enough to remember what had happened. The kids had gone berserk when Amber when down because of Andy and it seemed they had a lot of bullets left in those guns. He was sure they shot off most of them in the frenzy. Sure sounded like it. And now, he was sure he wore at least one of those damn things somewhere in his body.

The whispers stopped. Another light source was suddenly in the room, a tad brighter than the other one. Both stopped on him, one lit up around his chin, the other his stomach region. Now he didn't stop the groan from escaping. Two jerking lights danced towards him.

"Warrick? You okay?"

It was Greg. Just like Greg to ask a stupid question. '_Well moron, you are the master. You taught him well. Score on for the grasshopper._'

"Yeah man, just making martinis over here. Nothing big. Using bullets as olives."

Both Greg and Brass moved to his side. Though it was clear Greg wasn't really moving as much as pulling his limp body along the floor. Brass seemed just fine though. That cop could live through anything it appeared.

"You guys?"

Greg waved him off with a flap of his hand, "Never better. Now I can brag about my first gunshot wound, huh?"

Brass shook his head and raised a hand to rub at his forehead. But he didn't think too long on it. Warrick finally brought the question out into the open.

"Nick? Andy? What about them? The damn kids?"

It was enough to get both men to jerk their lights upwards. Brass' fell upon Natalie first. No amount of drama club was going to help her now. Her chest was heaving, but her eyes were pinched closed. Small whimpers rose from her throat, along with a lot of blood. The detective couldn't tell where she had been hit, but she was out for the three.

The other light fell on the mess of bodies on the other side of Warrick, about four feet away from the tall CSI. It was hard to tell who was who from this angle. Andrew and Nick were a mess of limbs. Andrew had been the savior, moving to knock down Amber. But as a result, he had moved his body closer to Nick's.

The small girl was almost on the top of the two of them. Her red hair was splayed across Nick's torso, Andrew's arm. There was no sound or movement from the pile.

A strangled noise erupted from Warrick, pushing the man to ignore his own pains to move over to the group. He sustained a bullet wound to his right shoulder, but it might as well been a simple mosquito bite for all the attention he was paying to it.

But he only made it to about a foot away from the mess. The red head suddenly sat up, twisted smile on her face. It was even more frightening now with the red stains between her teeth. There was blood running out the side of her mouth, arching down her chin.

Every shred of innocence was now gone from her face. The monster she had been hiding in that little girl exterior was now out to play. And it was perched, hunting, over the bodies of two of their friends. Two that still had yet to move or make any noise. Greg's heart thumped harder than he thought ever possible as he watched.

Amber still had a gun in her hand. It hadn't been knocked lose from the kick to her legs. There was no knowing if there were any bullets left in the damn thing, but Warrick wasn't about to tempt fate. He didn't need anymore holes. None of them did. Though he would have no personal issues with putting one in that girl. She was injured somewhere it seemed, but she wasn't about to roll over and play dead.

Her small hand that was free of the gun reached out and she let her fingers brush against Nick's cheek. The Texan's eyes were closed, his lips slack. Warrick's chest froze when he couldn't make any movement of the other man's torso. Nick's pallor was almost translucent. He looked like one of those fish where you can see straight through them, into the veins and internal organs.

"He's dead," her lips formed the words with complete glee. Her eyes shined with a glow normally only seen by young children on Christmas morning. But here it was on a face, smiling in the mist of so much death. "And this one is close."

Greg watched as she shifted and leaned over to Andrew. From his angle he couldn't make out the cop's face, but from the rage on Warrick's face, it wasn't good. He heard Brass growl low in his throat, but didn't dare move his eyes from the scene in front of him. If he did, something even worst might happen.

"Yes, he's close. Brave bastard for pulling that stunt. Didn't think he had it in 'em to move anymore. But he proved me wrong. He is to blame now."

A thin strip of bloody drool ran off her bottom lip as she moved again. It dripped onto Nick's neck. Warrick could watch it slither its way down towards the floor. It didn't move in its journey. There wasn't any movement in that throat to cause any disruption.

Amber lifted her head, her smile even bigger in the yellow light cast upon her. There was more blood on her teeth, but it didn't appear to bother her in the least. In fact, Warrick was sure it was fueling her lust in this situation. She wanted death and now she was in a room that reeked of it.

"But you three are still alive. Not how the game was supposed to go."

"Look Amber. This doesn't need to happen," Brass gathered up his most authorized voice as he spoke to the girl as if she was a skittish cat, "Just put the gun down, put your hands on your head. Nothing more has to happen here. It can all end."

Her head cocked to the right, her brow drawing up. This was not something she could understand. Now that they were in this situation, no one was supposed to leave alive. Kayla had killed them all. This was the dead girl's fault.

"Kayla isn't here. Just put the gun down."

With a look of shock, Amber threw her head upright. She hadn't realized she had spoken her thoughts about that girl out loud. It just pissed her off even more.

"I think not," her hand shook, but she managed to get the gun up and right into the cute man's face. She still hadn't moved, but she wouldn't care about putting another bullet in him. From the blood soaking into her pants, Amber was sure there was a bullet wound along with that cut that killed the man. No dead man should have looks that this one did. Amber wanted to take them away.

"Please, don't do it," Warrick threw away his pride and began pleading with the girl. He might be wrong and Nick could be still alive. But not if this girl shot a bullet into Nick's forehead like she looked to be planning to do.

Amber's eyes suddenly teamed up, shining different in the light, "Too late for pretty words. Never right in times like these for pretty words. Just mess everything up. Always messes everything up."

Her fingers were twitching around on the trigger. Nick held his breath, eyes wide open as he watched the small girl over him. There was little doubt in his mind that she was going to kill him. She had no remorse, no morals to stop her from putting that bullet in his head.

"No time anymore. Nothing anymore," the girl was mumbling to herself now, "Now, say your prayers. Hands held tight. For you're going to lose your head tonight."

Warrick didn't bother to wait any longer. He threw his weight forward, trying to get his arms wrapped around the petite body before the trigger was pulled. Two shots got off before he managed to pull Amber off and away from Nick. She screamed in rage and in pain at his hold.

Now that he had his arms wrapped around her, Warrick could feel the blood from her wounds. From where he was sensing the bullet to be, the girl should have been dead. And with the blood on her teeth, she was breathing it up. Amber was injured, possibly dying. Warrick suddenly could see she was going to take out as many people as possible with her.

A shout sounded behind him. He knew that voice. It was Nick and Warrick felt a little relief to hear the other man up. But as he turned his eyes from the drifting ones of the young girl in his arms, he really wished he hadn't.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Being unconscious was totally overrated as far as Nick was concerned. In the darkness that his brain put him in, he could see everything and feel everything that had happened to lead him to this point. Andrew had been stupid and risked himself, again. The man came out of no where and took the crazy girl down. Of course, all hell went down. He'd been shot, twice.

There were voices going on around his head, but he was too out of it to figure out who was who. It was too much work at that moment. Nick was quite at peace taking a little break inside his own head. The outside world could wait a moment longer. Not like it was going anywhere anytime soon.

Something was resting on his chest, weighing him down. Panic ripped through his mind for a few seconds. He was immobile, no way to get up if he were to wake. And now waking was all he wanted to do.

His eyes felt like they were glued shut and Nick felt as if he were wasting a year's supply of energy on getting them to even shift under closed eyelids. Some of his fingers moved, but that was all he could give as a sign to the outside world around him. The voices were louder, crazier. Something moved quickly.

Nick pried his eyes open to only see that barrel once again. His stomach churned at the sight, but there was precious little time to process the feeling. Something large and dark slammed into the smaller figure that must have been weighing down his body. The gun jerked and two bullets slammed from the end.

But neither even hit Nick. Close, but not into his flesh.

There was a groan and a slapping of flesh on the tile next to him. Nick ignored his body's protests at any and all movements. He pushed himself upright and looked to where the noise had come from. Andy had taken it again. This time, he lost.

His fingers shook as he reached out to find a pulse, a beat of any kind. Nick let out a shout of despair when he found nothing. Andrew, his friend, the cop, was dead.

It was like a numbing shock. Nick barely registered the other people around him anymore as he took in the scene. His body reminded his brain that he was injured as well and should cease all movement, but his heart ached too much to listen. He could worry about his own pains later when he was sitting in another damn hospital bed.

Right now, he could throw his pain off and be there for a dead man. Tears ran down his cheeks without his permission. Someone placed a hand on his shoulder. There was another sob in the room. But all Nick saw was the bloody man on the floor in front of his hands. And it hurt.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

The distance from the girl they had found in the street and the school was longer than Catherine had been prepared for. It was a mess in this area. People were rummaging around, looting anything they wished. None looked to be too concerned with any dangers that might arise. This was that moment after a crisis when people forgot to care for others, only themselves.

She and Grissom had to avoid a small scouting party. They ducked behind a half standing home and sloshed around in the mud. Catherine cursed in her head that one of her favorite pairs of work pants were as good as destroyed. And these weren't one of the cheaper pairs.

Grissom darted away from her with a sudden surge of energy. She dug the heels of her boots into the soft ground and tracked after the taller man. There were several more houses to dart around. Grissom changed their direction back to the street when they encountered a labyrinth of fences.

Their shoes hit the pavement in almost the same tempo. It was soothing in a way. Gave the female CSI something new to focus on as they moved forward. Also allowed her to keep up better with the longer strides of her friend.

"I see it." His voice was clear and cut through the night. But Grissom kept it clean as always as he took in the structure that once was a sturdy school. Vehicles were turned around, upside down all around it. He would have laughed at another moment at the sight of the CSI SUV still in its yellow lines. Only thing wrong was the stop sign piercing the back window.

"They never left," Catherine called out as she took in the truck as well, "Where do you think they'd be?"

Slowing down a bit, Grissom scanned what was left of the place. He could make out what once was a front entrance by the cement walkway. There was a large, square room on the side closer to them. That had to be the gym. And there weren't any other large rooms like that on this side.

"Band room's on the other side. Come on."

Catherine shook her head, but kept all comments to herself as she pushed off a little faster. The jumped and weaved around things like on the street, but things were worst here. It looked to be tornado central in this area. She had never seen damage done by a tornado before this close and personal. It amazed her and took all words from her brain. It was scary.

It was a long school and Catherine was breathing heavy by the time they were around to another large room, shaped in a half oval.

"This must be the band room. Always seemed to have some shape like this," Grissom commented as he walked over to where there was a truck tailgate hanging out. He placed a hand on it and pushed as if it were a small toy. It didn't budge of course.

"How do we get in?"

Grissom removed his attention to the truck and took a couple steps back. He scanned the mess of bricks and tried to see anything that would leave them an entrance. So far he was coming up completely short. With a few steps away from Catherine, he moved slowly along the line of wall. There was a hole in the side of it.

"Catherine, found something!"

The relief in that call was enough to bolt Catherine from her spot. Sure enough there was a small hole a few feet above the ground. Catherine had to frown as she looked at it.

"No way in hell we're fitting in there."

"You could. You'd fit."

"Not even going to go there," Catherine's blonde hair whipped as she shook her head, "No way my hips will make it even an inch in. I'm not that tiny."

Grissom frowned and dropped his eyes to his partner's hips without a thought. A cough and raised eyebrow made him remember his manners. His cheeks flushed a little. Grissom was thankful of the darkness that helped to hide that rare physical emotion.

"Well…" he turned on his heels and looked around them. There had to be something he could use to pry it open, make it bigger. Just as he was about to curse, he got an idea. "Stay here. I'll be right back."

"Wha…?"

The man was off before Catherine could even finish her word. She watched him run back in the direction they had just come. Shrugging, she turned back to the wall and moved closer to the hole. Catherine raised her hand and used it to measure the width. Laughing slightly to herself, she pulled her hand down. She would never be able to get her body in that thing.

She tapped her fingers along her pant leg as she waited for what seemed like forever. Finally, Grissom was walking back towards her, stop sign over his shoulder. Catherine's eyebrows rose to her hairline.

"What is that?"

"Stop sign."

"I can see that. Where the hell did you get it?"

"Pulled it out of the truck, back there. Didn't you see if?"

Catherine simply shook her head and stopped that topic of conversation. She wanted to know why he went and got the damn thing. "What you planning on doing with it?"

He walked away from her, not saying a word. Grissom grinned to himself once he knew that Catherine couldn't see his face anymore. There was nothing he liked more than leaving that woman in the dark. She would catch on soon enough.

The bricks underneath the hole seemed unstable. If he pushed the sign in just right, he might be able to dislodge the rest and make it bigger for them to fit through. Walking slowly, looking closely, Grissom found a spot to shove the sign in. He placed his foot on the end and pushed.

"Think its going to work?" Catherine was closer now. She understood what he was trying to do, but didn't see how it would work. Stop signs weren't that sturdy, but bricks were.

"Only one to find out."

He grunted as he fought with it. It creaked and grated against the rock. There was some shifting, some movement. Grissom jumped back just in time as the rest of the wall started to fall. Rocks and bricks fell around his feet. Dust flew up into the air, forcing its way into Grissom's lungs. He coughed and waved his hand in front of his face to get rid of some of the annoyance.

When everything settled, he stepped back to stand next to Catherine. He smiled now so that Catherine could see it this time. The whole was about four feet long now, two feet wide.

"No problem getting in now."

Catherine gave him a small shove and moved forward. Her small flashlight shined into the room as she moved carefully inward. It was dark. It was quiet. She felt more than heard Grissom follow her into the room. They walked together to where they could make out a door.

Looking around at the damage, Catherine couldn't suppress the shiver that went through her body. Her boys had been in this mess. They had to deal with what happened during that storm. She only hoped she would be able to help them through this and put them back together. Each one would need plenty of help when everything was said and done.

Grissom moved through the doorway, looked into the hallway. He could see where the tornado ripped across, taking the hallway down. It was closed off and he was sure that every other exit was gone. His guys were trapped for far too long.

"Jim? Warrick?"

His voice cut through the darkness, but there was no answer. But there was some sort of sound coming from the doorway he placed his beam of light on. With a quick glance at Catherine, he walked forward. He pushed open the cracked door and took in the sight waiting for him on the floor of the place.

His heart hurt at what he saw.

TBC…


	16. Chapter 15: The thunder rolls…

**Title: And the Thunder Rolls**

**By: duffshel**

**#15: The thunder rolls…**

There wasn't much light at all. It was only lit up with a few sources from a few flashlights. There really wasn't much to go on, but Grissom couldn't help be stopped dead in his tracks in the doorway. From what he could see, all his guys were in this room.

A small shove to the small of his back moved him efficiently from the entry way. He saw blonde hair flying outward as Catherine rushed past him. There was a gasp and small cry from the female CSI. Grissom's hands suddenly went cold for some reason he would figure out later. For now, he brushed the feeling off and forced himself into action.

His foot connected with a round object on his trek. Focusing his beam downward, he saw another flashlight. Not one to waste opportunities, Grissom picked it up and used both now. It was little difference, but the fact that it made one at all was good enough for him.

He glanced from one person to another, trying to take it all in. First there were two teenage boys, both dead. Then a young girl, barely alive, holding on to her last breaths. As much as he knew he should be a professional and study these three closer, Grissom wanted to check on his people first.

Brass and Greg were kneeling on the floor, their backs to the supervising CSI. The detective seemed to be whole, though Grissom could make out a shallow cut on the side of gruff man's face, up near the part of the ear he could see. Nothing that looked to need immediate attention. That man was an ox and it would take a train to take him out.

His younger CSI didn't look very comfortable now that Grissom took a closer look. Greg's leg was out from his body in an odd angle. There was blood on his pant leg. A lot of blood on his pant leg. And what appeared to be more. But his back was straight, shoulders firm.

Satisfying himself with a quick look over of the two, he focused on his taller CSI. Warrick was leaning backward, red headed girl in his lap. But from how the man was holding her, she wasn't a person to be fragile with. Warrick's hands held tight to her even as her eyes fluttered as if fighting not to sleep. The man's face showed pure exhaustion and pain from something he had been through. With the girl in the way, Grissom couldn't be sure of what really was wrong with Warrick, but could see the man was still with them.

Grissom turned his attention to the hunched figure, the one receiving Catherine's hand of support. Nick's shoulders were shaking from silent sobs. The rest of his body was as tight as a bowstring. He wasn't leaning towards Catherine, or anyone for that matter. Well, anyone moving anyways. Grissom could only see a part of the Texan's face. It was shadowed, pale, sickly.

Each step he took echoed loudly around him. It suddenly seemed to be the only noise in the room and it made Grissom want to fidget. He stopped by Greg's side. Now he could see Andrew. His head shook slowly, not even realizing he was making the motion. The young cop was dead. He was lost to the world.

Words were lost to him.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()!#$$&()+

Warrick had looked up when Grissom and Catherine walked into the room. For some reason that he couldn't figure out, he wasn't surprised by this. There was no reason for them to be here, but there they were. It fit perfectly with this night. Oddness all wrapped up in nice packaging, that was for sure.

He held tight to Amber though he could feel she had lost all her fight. She was limp, chest moving ever so softly. But she wasn't sane and he wasn't about to let her up. The girl was still possible of anything while she still had a heart that beat. He didn't want to test it and see how much.

But it was a hard decision. Warrick could see Nick was suffering from the loss of Andrew, as well as all his own physical pain. The man's shoulders were trembling, face set in hard lines. His hair looked like it was black paint wisped over his forehead and eyes. Warrick wanted to go check on him.

"What happened?" Grissom asked, voice strong and clear in the chaos.

"We got trapped," Greg looked to be in a trance as his lips moved on autopilot, "They had guns. Killed each other. Tried to kill us."

Catherine shook her head, eyes watery, "Are you guys okay?"

A snort sounded from Brass, "What a million dollar question. We're going to need a couple ambulances here. Each of your CSI's are hurt. And Andrew…"

The name trailed off and a whimper sounded from Nick. His hand flew up to beat at his face, trying to compose himself in front of the others. But the pain of his injuries and the confusion on what they had gone through were too much. Nick's mind wasn't able to deal with everything at once.

"Its okay, Nicky."

Catherine's hand tightened as she leaned in to whisper in his ears. She wanted him to calm down and relax. His blood pressure was too high from all the stress. She could almost feel the rush of blood under her hand, through the cloth of his shirt, and the cells of his skin. Nick was going to pass out soon if he didn't stop.

His lips trembled right along with his shoulders, "No, not this time."

Each was silent for a moment. Warrick tightened his arms without realizing it. The girl barely shifted in the new grasp. Bloody drool was soaking his arm, but he didn't make to move anything.

Grissom reached for his phone and flipped it open. The looks he received at doing something so simple was almost scary, but he ignored the others. It was just a simple cell phone after all. They all had one. He flipped it open and dialed in a quick number.

From his spot, Greg leaned forward a little more and shifted his leg straight out. He listened to his supervisor call the local sheriff and explain what they needed. It helped to distract him from the numbness that had now taken his limb captive. Greg was nervous about what that meant since he had never been shot before.

And his friends were all in different stages of shock. He had been through it before, in an explosion, knew what it looked like. Nick was the worst into it. Greg shook his head slightly, thinking that it was probably from the fact the Texan was denying things that were plain as day. Sure, he didn't want to admit his friend was gone, but Greg at least was trying. It looked like Nick wasn't in for that game today.

He suddenly could feel new eyes on him. Greg lifted his head and took in the sharp gaze from Catherine. She was testing out something on him. "You okay, Greg?"

"Sure, just shot in the leg. Nothing more really. Got off pretty easy," he tried to brush off the attention so it could be focused where it belonged more.

But Catherine wouldn't have it, "Just stay still and relax. You are all going to be okay soon. We'll get you back to Vegas and set it all right again. Just relax Greg."

It was soothing and he was reminded of his own mother. A small grin twisted up his lips and he nodded his head, his hair bobbing with the action. He had learned since his accident in the lab that Catherine would have her way no matter what got in the way, even the injured party. Better to just let it happen and accept she was going to baby you a little bit.

Her eyes held Greg's for a second longer to reassure herself that the youngest of her boys wasn't about to go anywhere. Catherine hesitated only slightly before moving to make eye contact with Warrick. It wasn't as carefree and casual as it used to be. Now she had to hold back a little and not let anything get through that she didn't want. He was a married man and didn't need as much from her anymore. But it still hurt, in more ways than one. But now wasn't the time to be thinking about that.

"Warrick? You?"

He grumbled, shaking his head, "Nah, just worry about Nicky. He needs ya more than me right now. I got it."

"Alright, but when that ambulance gets here, no fighting them. Just shut up and listen to what they say."

Warrick knew that tone and knew better than to try to fight it. A glance at Grissom offered no help and it was clear his supervisor meant the same thing. He tried to straighten his back a little, the muscles spasm from being stuck in the same position for way too long. There were footsteps getting closer to him.

"Here, let me help," Brass was holding out his hands to take the girl away from him, "Just lay her on the floor. She's not going anywhere anytime soon. But we don't want her dying on us. Have to get some more information out of her."

"Alright, just give me a hand."

The two of them lay Amber on the cool tile, tilting her head to the side so she would have less risk on drowning in her own saliva. A small bloody lake quickly formed beneath her heaving chest. This new position had opened up her lungs more and her body was taking full advantage. But her eyes were closed, soft against her pale flesh.

Anywhere else, Warrick might comment on what a nice looking kid she was. Looked to be innocent and sweet. One of those types to help older women across the street, hold a little boy's hand on the slide. But he was given enough data on her to figure she had never been like that. Always hiding behind that sweetness, waiting for the right moment. She was a pure predator.

Grissom kneeled by the two as the looked down on the one who had started this all into motion, "Anyone going to tell me what happened now?"

"Geez Gil, just give us a break. Hasn't been an easy night after all. Next time, you can take on a squad of crazy teenagers and tornados. Then I'll ask the annoying questions. Sound good to you?"

It was sarcastic enough to evoke a chuckle from Warrick, "We'll put it all in the report for ya. Even sign it all official like if you want."

"Not amusing," Grissom's lips barely moved, along with the rest of his contours.

Warrick sobered up quickly, stomach dropping into his shoes, "No, it's not. Not at all…I don't really know what happened. It is all like one of those damn bad dreams that you're shocked your brain thought up. Nothing ever made me think anything like this was possible."

"It is always in life's little twists and turns that we learn was can truly happen. No one can predict it, but we have to be ready for anything, take it as it comes," Grissom kept his voice low.

None of the men could think of anything to say as they looked down at the still girl. She was the symbol they would have to move around to work into the future. Now that demon had a face, a voice. Warrick wasn't thrilled at that prospect, but figured it might help things get along easier.

He turned his attention away from the conversation Grissom and Brass had taken up and looked over at his other friends. It was then he realized that having a face to the problem wasn't going to help Nick. This was only going to make it worse for his brother.

"Ah man. Nick, you okay, bro?"

But he gained no response from the targeted man. Catherine looked up at him, meeting his eyes. Now Warrick could see the tears that were begging to escape her eyes though she was fighting them back. It twisted his heart up a little more.

With a groan, he moved his lanky body so that he was now sitting next to Nick. The other man didn't move or even acknowledge the new person next to him. Warrick looked over at Catherine, hoping his eyes conveyed what he wanted. The nod he received was enough to prove it worked.

Catherine squeezed Nick's shoulder before slapping it down onto her thigh, "Come on Greg. Let's get you up off this floor and onto a chair. I want to see your leg."

The young man looked like a deer in brights. He had been quiet, not trying to draw attention to himself the entire time. It was enough to watch and observe. Others needed more help than him. Greg didn't want to have anyone think any different. But now Catherine was on him. And from the look he was getting, there was no point in saying anything negative.

"Alright, but gonna need some help," he smiled sweetly at her.

"Of course," Catherine stood in front of him and offered both her hands, "Come on. Show me those tough muscles you got."

Neither Warrick or Nick watched the two move away from them. Nick's eyes were locked on the gray face of Andrew, Warrick on the white washed face of Nick. Both their breathing was quiet, on beat together. Though Nick's would hitch and jerk every now and then with his gasps and hiccups.

Taking a deep breath of his own, Warrick finally looked down to study Andrew's face, "Ah shit. So sorry man,"

That managed to get Nick to move. His right hand reached up, trembling, and rubbed at his nose. Nick sniffled a little and shook his head, clearing some thoughts away. Warrick felt as if he were hovering over his friend, but didn't want to move away from even a moment.

"You okay, Nicky?"

Nick cleared his throat a little, "Sure, why not."

"Not a good answer. Nothing more?"

"What ya want, 'Rick?" Nick huffed as he turned a glare onto the taller man.

"Just a little honesty. That's all I'm asking for. Nor a whole lot to ask for, man. Then, you can ignore me the entire way back to Vegas."

A heavy, loaded sigh left Nick. It left his body looking deflated. He looked like a young boy, who had just been told his favorite toy had been lost somewhere far away. His shoulders curled downward, tight towards his chest. Nick pulled his legs a little closer, hissing in discomfort at the pull of muscle and bone. There was pure mutiny throughout his entire frame. His mind was beginning to lose.

"It hurts…"

Warrick had to lean closer to catch the whispered words. His brow drew together at the comment, trying to determine what was meant by it. It was a loaded couple of words. There were many things that could hurt. Warrick just needed to pick one and go with it.

Or ask another question, "What hurts?"

Squeezing his eyes tightly together, Nick shook his entire body a little, "Everything. Just don't want to do this anymore. Want out."

Reacting on instinct, Warrick reached out a hand and brushed it across the other man's forehead. His own grandmother had done this all the time when he was a child. It helped to calm the muscles of his face, allow him to calm himself down. And it seemed to work a little on Nick. The lines around his eyes weren't quite as tight, though not gone.

"Almost there, bro. Just have to wait for the cavalry to get here. Then you can take a nap or something."

"Or something…" Nick snapped his eyes open and looked back down at Andrew. The sight was suddenly too much for him. His entire digestive system twisted and lurched. Nick threw himself up to his feet before he even knew he did it. And from the shocked look on Warrick's face, the taller man wasn't ready for it either.

"Need to move."

Nick bolted from the room faster than he should have been able to move. Everyone appeared to be shocked at this sudden development, but there was no time to think or worry about them. No, this wasn't about them this time. It was bigger then them. And it made Nick feel even more nauseous as he moved.

His legs gave out on his only about ten feet from the doorway. Nick went down hard onto his knees, crying out at the impact. It was hard enough to get his teeth to clack together painfully. There was shifting within his torso. Pain filled every one of his nerve endings.

The tears couldn't be held back now. Any stubbornness he had left was wiped out. His eyes filled and overflowed. Air was sucked into his lungs and pushed out in shaking sobs. Movement occurred around him, a steady arm went around his shoulders/

He blindly reached out and bunched his fists up in the shirt he felt brushing against his arm. The scent of Warrick slammed into him, but he didn't have the energy to find his pride in this matter. It was lost in the flood. He was lost. It all hurt. And for once, he wasn't going to hold it in. Nick Stokes was going to let it all out, consequences be damned.

Warrick tightened his arm around Nick, trying to keep the man from injuring himself anymore as well as trying to comfort him. He had followed the Texan out of the room, waving everyone else back. This was something Nick was going to killing himself over later in time and Warrick wanted to make sure there weren't that many witnesses. But he was pretty sure they all knew what was going on anyways. Nick was being fairly loud in his pain and grief.

"It's alright. It's okay. Just breathe, bro."

Shaking his head, Nick tried to answer, tell him no, but couldn't get the words to form. Over his sobs, he could hear new noises, ones that he hadn't thought he was going to hear for a long time. There were sirens, lots of them coming. Help was finally coming. It made his sob even harder.

"They're coming, Nicky. Gonna go home soon. Gonna be okay."

Warrick kept talking, trying to keep something for Nick to focus on. The sobs were rough as Nick tried to fight them under control. He wasn't about to let total strangers see him in this position. These people would have enough to judge on him. And it made a small sliver of his being nervous and ashamed. But it was ignored.

There were footsteps behind them. Warrick turned to look at Grissom. The older man looked completely different. It took a second for Warrick to figure it out. Grissom was hurting for his guys, upset at what had happened. Emotions were strong enough to even break through the wall that Grissom had constructed around his face.

"I'll go wait for them. Direct them in here. Don't let him move. Catherine will hold down the room for now. Just don't move."

He nodded as Grissom walked away, with a quick step. Brass shuffled quickly after, mumbling something about that CSI needing some help with this and not to leave the detective behind. Nick chuckled a little under his arm.

"Oh, and what's so funny?"

Nick raised a white hand to run it through his mop tresses, "Old married couple. Bicker like the best of 'em."

"Got that right," Warrick laughed a little. He relaxed a little. And, he hurt a little more.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

Catherine couldn't sit still. There were ambulances on their way. She had a rush of adrenaline and it made her want to mother even more. But Greg kept pushing her away. They had been left alone in the room with dead bodies and injured teenagers. Not a whole lot to mother, other than Greg.

"Come on, Catherine. I'm fine. Just leave it…don't touch that!"

She lifted her hand, question in her eyes. All she had been doing is checking to make sure Greg only had one injury. There was nothing implied by anything. Hell, she had barely applied any pressure.

"Need to lighten up, Greggo."

"And you need to stop feeling me up. If you want to see the goods, need to buy me dinner first at least. Would be the lady like thing to do after all. Then you can look all you want."

Greg smirked at the smack to his arm. It helped to cover his pain, his confusion. Catherine was smothering him, that was for sure. And he needed to distract her a little. Show her less pain. Then maybe they would get him out of this place completely unmolested.

"Like you'd have a chance. Can't do punk rock in dancing shoes," Catherine threw her blonde hair over her shoulder and moved away a little. Not far enough for Greg's liking, but it was a better distance.

He signed, dropping his head a little, "Never been shot before. I dunno, didn't hurt, then it did. Now again, not so much. Don't quite get it. I thought it was supposed to be one of the worst pains."

"Can't help ya there. Never been shot. Been in situations with bullets flying, but never intercepted one myself. But I've heard it is sometimes odd. Besides, once the shock wears off, you'll feel it just fine. Be thankful for this."

Forgetting that she wasn't mothering anymore, Catherine reached out and took the younger man's hand in her own. It was an anchor for both of them, quite possibly more for Catherine. She kept seeing the scene as they walked fresh into the room. And she could still hear the sobs from Nick as he rushed from the room.

It took her only a minute to listen to the sounds of the paramedics rushing into the building. Orders were being barked out on radios, static filled the air. People were here, people in control. She felt as if she had none. Someone was going to have to help her catch everyone on this one.

A gurney squeaked as it was led into the room. There were several lanterns of light placed on the ground. It cast yellow shadows around the room. Without thinking, Catherine turned Greg's face completely to her. She could see what Andrew looked like, but didn't want the young CSI to see it. Catherine could handle it. She just didn't want to make Greg try to.

Several people surrounded her. They pulled at her arms, asking her if she was okay. Someone pulled Greg from her. He made a sound of pain as they moved his leg. Greg reached down to grab at his thigh to try to ward off some of the throbbing.

He was dazed a little by everything. The lights were a little too bright and made his head hurt. Someone was shinning a pen light into his right eye. Greg gasped and turned away. Pressure was applied to the gun shot wound in his leg. He hissed through clenched teeth.

"Sir, can you walk? Do you have any other injuries?"

"No, just my leg," Greg tried to think, but was failing at it. It all ached inside his brain.

"Alright. Just hold it tight. We'll get you out of here in no time. Just going to move you outside the building at first. Have others we need to get to first."

Greg didn't have a chance to answer as his arms were pulled upwards. His weight shifted upright and he was standing on his good leg. One of his arms was draped over someone's shoulders and he was being pulled. He stumbled a little, but was able to keep up with the steps.

There were more lanterns in the hallway. He followed the lights, the bodies around him. A reassurance from Catherine reached his ears every couple of steps. As they entered the band room, it helped a great deal. As did the rush of fresh air. He sucked up a lung full with complete greed.

"Here, sir. Just sit here. Try to breathe and relax. If you get dizzy or sick, lower your head to your knees and takes some deep breaths. We'll get someone over here to check on that wound and get you hooked up to a line. Not too much longer, sir."

Getting called sir so many times was going to go to his head. Greg just nodded and allowed them to sit him down on something. He wasn't quite sure what it was, but it held. And Catherine sat next to him. She took his hand again.

"Where's Nick? Warrick?" he asked in a small voice, exhaustion creeping in quickly.

Catherine looked around, trying to see someone she knew. Some she caught sight of Grissom's hair, "They're over there. Looks like they get one of the rigs first."

Yawning suddenly, Greg nodded and leaned his head on Catherine's shoulder, "Good. They need it more than me. I'd walk back if they let me."

"Uh huh. Whatever, Greg. You can jog next to the truck, I'll time ya," Catherine ran her free hand through Greg's hair. A small, sad smile settled over her lips. It was almost over.

!#$&()!#$&()!#$&()+

The two older men didn't know what to do with themselves. Warrick would have laughed if he wasn't losing all his energy. They were all outside now. Just had to wait to be carted away. But he was fine with it. He was there, with Nick, with their friends.

Grissom and Brass were talking with the sheriff, trying to figure out the best way to do this. There were only three ambulances, but more injured people than that. If Warrick had his way, Nick would already be gone in his own private carriage. But he didn't have his way, Nick did. And Nick wanted everyone else taken care of first. Including Andrew.

Two gurneys were pulled through the destruction, two teenage girls attached to the tops. Natalie and Amber both had oxygen masks secured over their faces. People were running around each, talking quickly. Both were going to be saved if at all possible. Then they would serve justice. Someone was going down for all of this. Warrick would prefer to see both.

Snatches of the conversation to his side hit him as he fought to keep his eyes open. Seems the sheriff got to work quickly and had done a little research on Amber's web page. It was all there. They had detailed everything out on that spot. Anyone could read it and see what they were planning to do. And who they planned on killing and injuring to do it.

They had planned things so there would be a couple extra kids along to frame and possibly use if need be. Brought in guns and knives just in case. Never wanted to be short a weapon supply when one went killing. All they missed was the weather report.

A third gurney left the building now. Nick looked up now at the sound. Though there really wasn't one from anyone. Only two people worked with this one. The sheet was pulled up and over the top. His eyes ached as he watched them move Andrew over to one of the ambulances.

His body had been slowly leaning into Warrick from where he had been placed. Blood was slowly running from his wounds, draining away from his grasp. Tiny white dots were floating in his vision. All sounds carried an odd fuzz to them.

Out of nowhere, two paramedics dropped in front of them. Orders and instructions were being told. Nick couldn't bring himself to listen all that closely. He just kept his eyes open and watched what was going on.

Greg and Catherine were being ushered into a squad car, a paramedic getting in behind them. The lights were bright on top as it revved up and prepared to make its journey away from this mess.

He watched through a fog glass as Grissom and Brass moved away with the sheriff. Nick did catch their worried glance. They both knew as well as he did there was little they would be able to do for the two remaining CSI's. Professional help was better suited here.

"I need you two to walk with us. We're going to get you out of here now. Have to get you into the rig."

Nick felt as if he were watching the scene from a few feet away. His body was heaved upright. Everything had turned to jelly and Nick couldn't get his feet underneath him. They had to do all the work for him. He couldn't even keep his head upright.

The ambulance seemed to be tall, high from the ground. Nick frowned as he looked at it. There was no way he was getting up into that. But hands suddenly turned him and pushed his downward. His body came into contact with something soft. He was being strapped down onto something. Panic flooded his senses for a moment. Until he felt Warrick's hand close around his.

They were both loaded, him on the bed, Warrick on the bench. He wondered at this for a moment. There had been three ambulances and from his experience, that meant only three gurneys. Something was pushed through the flesh of his arm and those thoughts were lost. His eyes were heavy. But he fought to find Warrick's gaze.

His best friend was looking out the ambulance's rear window. There was a look of sadness in those green eyes. Nick didn't like it and coughed a little. It worked and go Warrick's attention. Nick lost his battle and gave into the drugs. He signed into his sea of darkness and stillness.

He never saw the body on the ground, sheet still in place. Or how Grissom and Brass stood over it, protecting it from everything. Nick missed how the cops began to take things apart, create a new crime scene. No, he missed it all. But there would be plenty of time to think and remember in dreams. He wasn't going to be the only one to have nightmares of this one.

Twisters would ruin the world, guns would take away kids. Red hair would clash with the gray rain clouds. Laughter would beat out the thunder. But right now, only silence. The band was done. The curtain had fallen. All that was left, the empty theater with echoes of what was.

**The End**

**Author's Final Note: **Well, that's all there was folks. So glad this went over so well. Thank you to everyone, new and old who read this and stuck it out with me. Means way too much on how you all are so great about this kind of stuff. And this story officially had the most people on the alert list! It was impressive to see how many people were on board for it. To the silent readers, thanks for showing up!

So, now we have to get back to work. Have that other story that many people have been asking about and waiting for. And I think y'all know what that is!

**NEW FAN FICTION!**

**To Whom It May Concern **- **Summary**: Have you ever felt like your life was nothing more than a song eternally set on repeat? … Wait. I forgot. Part of making this work was details. No one was going to read this anyways.

Now, this story isn't near being ready. I have started a great deal on it over the past couple of months, but there is still a lot more to do with it. Gonna need some time. This story is either going to make or break me. It is going to be something a little different and hopefully a lot more complex than you're used to from me.

But in the mean time, for those of you who are new to my stuff or need a refresher, this is a sequel to _Poisonous Fear_. You need to know that one to understand a lot of what will be going on in this one. People will be coming back; stuff will be brought back into play. It isn't going to be connected anyway with this story. So, it will take place in Season 6 and have nothing from this in it.

Also, I promised a little happy ficlet for Sara (rojaji) and I plan on keeping it. Just have to figure something out. Gonna have the boys doing something other than getting hurt in that one!

Alright, I'm out of here! Thanks again for everything! And as always, let me know what you thought of the chapter, the entire story. Any suggestions and comments will be taken into consideration. I try to fix as I go! Have a great little break from me! Drop me a line at any time! Prod me into gear! See ya again soon!


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